


Arcadia Fading

by indulgencesoftheturdkind



Category: Red Dead Online, Undisclosed Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2020-09-02 08:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indulgencesoftheturdkind/pseuds/indulgencesoftheturdkind
Summary: When Rockstar takes too long to continue the story of Jessica LeClerk's revenge, you and your pals just gotta make a story of your own to pass the time. An unfair trial leaves two people, from entirely different life styles, at the mercy of the law. Tasked with working together, they both seek to return to their regular lives when their service to Jessica is completed. But will either one get what they want?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is going to be rather slow and painfully short. But as the saying goes, this is only the beginning.

Hannah Denson was not a trusting woman, nor was she foolish enough to bite the hand that fed her. The rescue from the Sisika convoy had to have been a blessing in disguise, and as Hannah rode with her savior, an older man named Horley, who had freed her from the government’s clutches-- for a murder she did not commit, no less-- she was rightfully suspicious, but equally grateful. There were numerous crimes Hannah was guilty of, but the slaughtered innocents that had been pinned on her had not been one of them, and she vowed hateful, _hateful_ things in the many, many nights she spent within the penitentiary walls. In the beginning, those malicious, dark thoughts were directed at her captors, at the guards of the prison and her fellow inmates, but soon her anger turned towards a member of her gang. A man she thought she could trust.

That man, Alfred, had left her for dead in the chaos that ensued in Blackwater, and even now, as she rode upon a sickly, skinny horse through the arid, sweltering heat of the Great Plains, she swore her old_ friend _ would not get away with it. The penitentiary, awful place that it was, had healed her up quite well, but it still stung when she thought of Alfred, burned with a deep, churning hate that made her belly feel full of molten lava. He would pay--he _ would _. _Nobody_ double crossed Hannah fucking Denson and got away with it.

But for now, there was no hate in Hannah’s heart as she followed Horley up the beaten dirt paths that snaked their way across the plains; only curiosity. She was thoroughly impressed at how easily and quickly the Sisika patrol had been dispatched, and how effortlessly this old man had waved everything off, his face ever a statuesque guise that never wavered. Just who was this mysterious woman who had paid so handsomely to have a lowly criminal broke out of a state penitentiary? Who would be so brash as to spit in the face of such a highly regarded prison?

She got her answer as she and Horley galloped over a hill where, just below them, lay a small but extravagant camp.

Jessica LeClerk.

She’s a very beautiful woman, one who burned with an intensity for justice Hannah could appreciate. She spoke clearly, loudly, with a sharp tone Hannah associated with high society women. Her crimson lips shame the rose, and her strong, regal face is framed by a head of brilliant blonde hair tied taut into an elegant bun that rests at the base of her skull. Her eyes are an intense icy blue and Hannah feels small in her presence. Trying not to seem desperate, despite being so, Hannah greedily accepted the stew and canteen she was brought, devouring it none to lady-like and swallowed several gulps of water as Jessica, unperturbed, with authoritative sureness in her voice, laid out her plans to avenge not only her husband, but those wrongfully imprisoned by forces who could care less what pain their plot had wrought.

“You have my sympathies, Mrs. LeClerk,” Hannah said finally, taking a moment to politely wipe her chin and the sides of her mouth. The water was warm, but it was leagues better than the swill the penitentiary gave her, and she guzzled down what was left. “Ain’t nothing worse than corrupt snakes in suits gettin’ away with what most people would be hanged for.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” Jessica replied, her smile was warm, but the sadness in her eyes was undeniable. “For now, we should get you out of those rags. Horley, please show our guest to her tent.”

“Your hospitality is greatly appreciated, but I couldn’t possibly--”

“I would prefer if you change.” Came the stern reply. “On top of that garment looking dreadfully uncomfortable, you are far too noticeable and suspicious in those atrocious stripes, don’t you think?”

With that astute observation, Hannah stood from the table with a meek nod and a quiet _ ‘thank you’ _ as she followed Horley over to the aforementioned tent. 

That was when she first saw him. Leaning against one of LeClerk’s wagons was a man, and seeing one of his size and stature lurking about made her immediately uneasy. He hadn’t noticed her, and she was thankful for that; even more thankful to see that he wasn’t as nicely dressed as the other two and that Horley did not seem alerted by the lurker. He was tall, with sandy brown hair neatly--or attempting to be neat--parted to the left, and marring his visage on one side, in vicious, unforgiving trenches, were three scars. They were deep, _ugly_ things, and Hannah’s imagination ran wild with scenarios of how he possibly could have gotten them. Later, she would learn this man was no threat, and would be joining her in her escapades for Jessica LeClerk. She would learn later that he was a gentle soul, framed in a similar fashion like her, and was only looking to return to a normal life. She would learn many things about the man named Thomas Shepherd in the months to come, but that first glimpse of him, lurking around the corner of a covered wagon, an unlit cigarette held loosely in his lips as he stared out over the open plains with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, made her wary of him.

Disappearing into the tent, she was alert as she changed, her eyes never leaving the flap, should the shadow man try anything funny--but he never came to the entrance. In fact, as she left, he was beside Mr. Horley, his face a mask of disinterest, though his body betrayed that facade. He was nervous and that put Hannah at ease. 

Despite being eased away from her initial judgement of him, Hannah ultimately decides she will just have to be alert with this man--from the look upon his face, he must have been thinking the same thing.

“I’d like to introduce you to Thomas Shepherd.” Said Horley as he gestured for the pair of them to follow. Hannah hesitated momentarily, before reaching her hand out towards Thomas. 

“Hannah Denson.” She greeted, as warmly as she could muster. Truthfully, she was thankful the introductions did not take long; Thomas shook it with a wordless nod, after regarding her hand with the same caution as one would a viper, and the pair promptly followed after Horley, who was swiftly approaching another person that Hannah had only just noticed. Cripps was his name, and he was getting on in his years, but from what she gathered in the briskness of their meeting, he was stubborn and willing to work. Who could ask for anything better?

“Little lies affect everyone, you two, and you’re lucky to have been just what we need.” Horley said to them as he rested a hand on Cripps’ shoulder. “And I hope that you will serve my mistress rightly. Come quickly now, we have much to do before the day is out.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Cripps was an effective fellow. In a short time, with no whining and moaning, he had set up camp for the two newly enlisted outlaws. He greeted each one warmly, shaking their hands vigorously, and vowed to hold down the fort when neither one was present. Despite his friendliness, Hannah wasn’t feeling talkative. The adrenaline and happiness from being set free was gone and all she felt was bitterness and anger. She reached up to untie her hair from the haphazard mess of a ponytail it was currently in, only to find a knotted mess only a barber could tame, and thus decided to leave it be for the time being. Hannah turned a sharp eye towards Cripps.

“I have matters to take care of before I do _ anything _ for Mrs. LeClerk.” She stated coldly, as if daring either Cripps or Thomas say anything otherwise. “I ain’t running off. I just got a little bastard to deal with.” 

“‘Course!” Says Cripps, his tone ever chipper. “Where you headed? I gotta know, y’know, just so’s I can keep LeClerk at ease. She’s spent quite a bit of cash on ya both and we’d hate to--”

“Saint Denis.” Came her irritated reply. She knew the angry tone was uncalled for, as neither of the lovely folks she’d just met were the cause of that boiling hatred that bubbled just below the surface of her forced pleasantries, but she couldn’t help it. Freedom meant revenge, and _ if _ that deplorable wretch of a man was still with her gang, the Hellcats, she was going to find them, find _ him _, and make him regret ever turning his back on her. 

She eyed the sorry excuse for horses both she and Thomas were provided with and prayed to whoever or_ whatever _ was listening that the Hellcats had, at the _ very least, _ saved her horse. Tano was a hardy, trustworthy steed, white as fresh snow with a deep red mane and tail, and she hated the thought of her being dead. “Got business there I’ve been waitin’ a whole year to put to rest.”

“Quite the distance to go, miss. I can move camp a little closer to the side of the region if you’d like.”

“Keep it here. I’d rather rest up closer to Mrs. LeClerk. I’ll be back, you have my word. I’ll even send a letter once I get to Saint Denis.” 

“I’ll ride with you.” 

Hannah snapped her head to the voice. Thomas hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d been introduced and that skeptical feeling she’d felt back in the tent returned. “I don’t need a bodyguard, boy. I can handle myself.”

He waved her off, seemingly unperturbed by the vitriol in her voice, striding across the camp and climbing onto his own sad little steed. The saddle groaned against his weight and she felt a pang of pity for the horse. It and it’s sibling was truly too old and scrawny to be making such a long, grueling trip. But at least she was considerably smaller than Thomas. A man of his height would only be comfortable upon a shire or a belgian, surely. “Ain’t like that. We’re goin’ in the same direction.”

“_ You _ got business in Saint Denis?” Hannah sneered, sounding incredulous. 

“Naw,” He turned the little horse around and she took notice how unsteady he seemed on it’s back and how awkwardly he held the reins. The scrawny nag seemed to notice as well, and it’s ears pinned back in response. “Going the same way. I won’t be with you long, Miss Denson. I have to check on someo-- some_ thing _ up in the Heartlands.” 

Regarding him with a sharp glance, Hannah almost turned him down. The way he’d backpedaled on the word _ someone _made her feel a frothing of anxiety, as though this was all a big set up, and that she was going to be slaughtered and left for the coyotes right after they crossed the Montana River. Hannah is a slim woman, small in stature, but she is vicious and knows her way around a revolver and is quite effective with a blade. She could almost certainly down this man if need be. She’s certain of that, just as she is certain she could kill him should he try anything.

But, as LeClerk had said, he was going to be her partner in the coming months, and she figured it best to get along with him now, rather than later. And he was the blessedly quiet type; perhaps the ride with him wouldn’t grate her nerves before she had a chance to find her old gang. And perhaps she was letting her first sighting of him color her expectations. Tall, quiet, and alone was an unnerving combination to any lady, outlaw or not. After all, out in the bright afternoon sun, he looked considerably less threatening. 

His eyes were dark, as rich as nourishing soil, and undoubtedly soft. Though he sported dark circles beneath them, there was no ominous secret glinting in them, no wicked intent dancing in those deep irises. Upon his nose and cheeks were a splattering of freckles, accompanied by the harsh tinge of the beginning of a sunburn. Even his facial structure was soft and rounded, lacking in any sharp angles or deep hollows. The only thing that made him seem dangerous were those scars and the ever present angry furrow of his brows.

However, it did not escape Hannah that he could use that gentle look of his to his advantage. She was no stranger to playing on people’s expectations to rob them, beat them, even kill them in some cases. After all, she was one of the smallest people in her gang, but was also one of the most successful; fools and idiots see a little lady and think either easy prey or nothing of her. Her apprehensive glare rested on him for several scant seconds, before deciding that she could use the company. 

“Fine. But I’ll be watching you.” She grumbled, climbing onto her own sad little horse. “And I ain’t in the mood to talk, if you’ll pardon my saying so.”

Thomas merely nodded in response and off they went, each giving Cripps a short and simple farewell.

Hannah’s thoughts were a vicious swirl of toxic rage as she rode with Thomas, silently, out of the Great Plains. Despite the beautiful view, the dry, refreshing air, and the hypnotic, rhythmic sound of the horses trotting in tandem with each other, she couldn’t enjoy it. 

All she could think about was the excruciating pain she had felt in her side, how she had turned to Alfred, looking for help just as an officer kicked a leg out from under her. He had a clear shot, no one else was around, he had _ her _ repeater clutched in his hands, and he had turned and ran. The scene kept playing over and over again in her head like a broken record. She had agonized over it in Sisika for weeks, months, driving herself mad with anger. When all seemed lost, Hannah had finally decided to accept that she had become a ward of the state, and was in the process of trying to accept her old life was gone.

And now this. 

Hannah’s grip on the reins tightened until her knuckles turn white and her teeth gnash together behind closed lips. If she had her trusty mount, her beautiful Andulsian, Tano, she may have rode there instead, just to give herself some time to cool off, and to get fresh air and stretch her legs, but the sickly nag below her could never hope to make the country wide trek to the city; hell, the poor creature was barely able to make it up the winding paths that bend and swerve throughout the West Elizabeth countryside. Her best bet was a train. It was the fastest way to get where she needed to be… and she needed to get there now.

As much as she relished the quiet stewing in her bitterness, she didn’t know this area, and she needed to find a train station as soon as possible. While she reserved her judgment and held her tongue, Hannah was quite confused about the two pathetic equines Horley had let them use. Were these starved steeds under his care? Under Jessica’s? Were they neglected in the aftermath of the Blackwater massacre? Neglected period? If so, she had some unkind words at the ready the next time they spoke. It could also simply be the horses were getting on in their years. Nevertheless, this horse would not do. 

Brushing fiery, unruly strands behind her ear, Hannah glanced back at Thomas. His pace was much slower and he looked uncomfortable, his eyes locked firmly on the nag’s mangy mane. He clutched the saddle horn like he was dangling off a cliff and his legs hugged the sides of the horse in a tight, comical way. She would have even found it funny under different circumstances. 

With a sigh, Hannah reined in her horse to meet his pace and that snapped him to attention. She noticed how his hand shot to rest on the revolver at his hip. She appreciated his caution--it meant they were on the same page with each other. 

“Not much of a rider?” She quipped, wincing slightly at how harsh it came out. He ignored the question and instead stared at her flatly. “Ain’t here to bother you too much, mister. No need for the stink eye, I just want to know if you know the area.”

“Mhm.”

“Think you could direct me to a train station?” She leaned over and patted the horse’s neck. “I don’t wanna put this old boy in the ground. He oughta be out in the pasture living out the rest of his days gettin’ fat on grass and hay, not transporting criminals away from a stick up.”

“Flatneck Station is close by.”

Hannah perked up. “How close?” 

“Riggs is even closer.”

“Shit, which way?” 

“Soon as we cross the Montana, just follow the path up-a-way.” He gestured vaguely in the direction of the Riggs’ Train Station. “Just watch for the signs.”

“They go to Saint Denis, right?”

“Ain’t sure of that, Miss. Never rode the trains m’self.” 

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask the clerk.” 

“Suppose so.” 

Hannah straightened up, filled with renewed vigor. “Thank you for the directions… uh…”

“Thomas.”

“Right, right. I’ll remember from here on, swear by it.”

Thomas said nothing in response and Hannah took that as her cue to continue on. With a two fingered salute, she spurred on ahead, leaving him behind as she galloped towards Riggs station. _ Oh, just you wait, Alfred. You won’t see this coming. _ Hannah thought, smiling darkly to herself.

  


*** * ***

Thomas arrived in the Heartlands after nearly four hours of riding. Graciously, he slid out of the saddle to stretch aching muscles that had been clenched the entire ride and to relieve himself off the beaten path. Much like Hannah, Thomas was anxious and excited to get back home and check in with the one person who had been on his mind during his entire incarceration, though his wasn’t for revenge. His mama may not have been a saint, and she may not have been a good woman for most of his upbringing, but she was getting on in her years, and the thought of her being alone all this time terrified him. 

Despite his eagerness to return home, Thomas refused to get back on the sickly horse, and instead began walking at a brisk pace whilst he lead the horse by the reins. His home wasn’t far and he needed the movement after spending so long tightened up like a bow string ready to snap.

Hannah was right, even if she had been joking, in saying he wasn’t much of a rider. The Shepherd’s, true to their name, mostly raised goats and preferred the hardy donkeys as riding mounts over horses. Or rather, they used to. For a long,_ long _ time now, it was just Thomas and his mother, and gruelling, harsh winters and relentless summers had taken what wolves and coyotes had not. Before he’d been arrested, the Shepherd’s had only two chickens and a goat. He hoped, as he hurried home, that he would not find them dead, or mama with a drink in her hand. 

As he walked, his thoughts shifted to Hannah. She had a fire in her eyes that made him uneasy, carried herself like most men did, did not have a kind face, and there was just something about her that made Thomas nervous. She was a woman unlike any he had seen before and he truly believed that she would kill him if she got the chance. She had the visage of someone who’s been through and seen things that no one should witness, the face of someone who put themselves above a stranger--he believed that wholeheartedly. Had Jessica and Horley not broken them out together, he would’ve had no qualms letting her disappear and never return. But they were partners now, and he had to get over himself. Besides, she proved she could be polite. That had to stand for something. 

The anger he’d seen in her deep brown eyes still made him apprehensive, nevertheless. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Thomas came upon the narrow trail that led up into the woods to his home. Haphazardly hitching the borrowed horse, he eagerly ran the rest of the way, ignoring the searing, aching pain in his feet and legs. 

“Ma!” He called. He had so much to explain, so much to tell her. They had a lot of catching up to do and he had quite a bit of explaining to relay. Not only how he got framed, but how he wasn’t going to be home just yet, as he had a duty to fulfill, but they could go back to a normal life as soon as it was all done. But he was home! Really, truly, home, and that was enough for him. As he crested the hill and parted through the trees that hide the house from view, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

His home was overgrown. The small pen--that he had built and maintained with his own two hands--sat empty. He heard nothing; no chickens, no goats, no shuffling feet or angry muttering… the house was desolate. Weeds grew wild across the yard and the pen, the tiny plot of crops they had was unrecognizable, the grass was knee high, and the lanterns weren’t lit. Mama always had the lanterns lit, even on a bright, gorgeous day like this. The elation he felt in finally being home came crashing down as he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples in exasperation and confusion. 

“Ma?” He said again, letting his arms fall back to his sides as he approached his home. Thomas tried to peer in through the windows but they were filthy, fogged up and dusty, and the front door was nailed shut. His heart clenched in his chest and he felt weak, unsteady, and above all, disoriented. Upon the door was the remnants of some weather beaten piece of paper, but it was illegible. Resting his hands on the board that barred the door, Thomas pressed his forehead against the splintering old wood and clenched his eyes shut, trying to steady his nerves. A headache prickled at his temples, threatening to split into a migraine as it steadily began to pound against his skull in tandem with his panicked heart, and he swallowed harshly.

_ Where is she? _

Then, in a fit, he yanked the board away from the door. It came easy enough; Thomas is a big man and the board was beginning to rot from exposure to the weather. Discarding it thoughtlessly to the side, he tried the knob and was relieved to find it unlocked. 

Once inside, he nearly turned the place upside down. Looking for answers, for money, for anything that would help him understand what had happened here. Much of the food was rotting, the inside was musty and dank, and the beds had never been made. A thick layer of spiderwebs and dust coated the blankets and pillows, as well as many of the surfaces in the house. He was penniless, fresh out of jail, and he needed to return to camp with something. 

Stuffing unopened, unexpired, canned food into his satchel--both of which were blessedly still in the house--Thomas made his way to his room, crossed the threshold, and opened up the wardrobe. As thankful as he was for the clothes from Jessica and Horley, they were uncomfortable, and eagerly switched them out for his worn pair of jeans and a blue and black plaid workshirt. It was quite the blessing that none of his clothes had been stolen… though they were rank and smelled of mothballs and rot. 

Once dressed and having grabbed three more shirts and his one other pair of pants, Thomas turned away from the wardrobe, shuffled over to the center of his room, and dropped to his knees heavily.

Carefully, he pulled away one of the floorboards and reached down into the moist darkness, fishing out an old tackle box after pushing several medium sized rocks, used to further conceal the box, out of the way. Thomas has had this tackle box for years, since he was just a boy, and used it for much more than just fishing accessories and tools. He hid money in here, a portrait of their family, along with letters he never sent and other equally pointless and important knick-knacks and documents. 

After rummaging around for a bit, Thomas found the stash of money and pocketed the full amount; a grand total of thirty-two dollars and twenty-nine cents. As he began to return the contents to the box, he paused as he reached for the portrait. It was slightly faded, with the edges weathered and cracking, but the image was still clear enough. Gently, as though it were made of the finest glass and silk, Thomas picked it up and looked upon it solemnly, his gloved fingers running lightly over each of the faces.

They’d had it taken not long after Thomas turned eight. It was the only thing he’d wanted for his birthday; a picture of all five of them together as a family--though the portrait only had four people present. The fifth person had been torn out. He thumbed the edges of the portrait sadly, lamenting how he’d never gotten it framed. They all looked so happy, mama especially, and his father blended in with the background so much that he just looked like a floating head. Mama had laughed about it to his dying day. 

Beside little Thomas was his sister, Genevieve, and his grip on the portrait tightened slightly. He had to go to her. Perhaps not now, perhaps not soon, but he would have to pay her a visit. Maybe she had the answers to what happened to his house, to mama.

Replacing the portrait, and then the tackle box and rocks, and then the floorboard, Thomas climbed to his feet with a grunt. “Gotta get where we’re goin’.” He said to himself.

With one last mournful glance back at the inside of the house, Thomas sighed, gently shut the door, and unenthusiastically returned to the scrawny nag.

  


*** * * **

  


Seven hours later, Hannah stepped off the train in Saint Denis. Not much had changed; the place still looked and smelled like industrial waste and horseshit, mud still puddled in the streets, people still yelled and shouted as they drove their wagons down narrow streets meant only for riders. She took in a deep breath and was all too happy to be home. Though the train ride had been long, Hannah had slept for most of it, and felt energized as she began jogging away from the station. For a moment, when the train had been slowing to let people off, she thought about going to the little apple orchard farm just outside the city. Marie, their gang leader, had set up an arrangement with the farmers there and its where the Hellcats kept their horses. 

She could’ve met up with Silas, their horse caretaker, and Gus, their grizzled old hunter, and she could’ve seen if Tano was there. But she was on a mission, and that mission was to get back to their hideout, find out if Alfred was still with them, and confront him about what he did. God help the fool if he was still with ‘em. 

This early in the evening meant the streets and sidewalks were unbearably crowded, but Hannah was unperturbed by the noisy, bustling masses. Growing up in the city meant you had to learn how to navigate the crowd, and she simply shoved past any who did not do the courteous thing and move out of her way. Doing so earned her a few unsavory insults from some men who did not appreciate her aggressive behavior, but they were the least of her worries. There was only one man she cared about right now and that was the shithead who left her behind. Hell, he probably thought she died to her hanging sentence.

Her jaw was in pain from all the teeth grinding as she rounded a corner and saw the familiar little saloon that sat across from the abandoned hotel where the Hellcats resided, on Millyone Avenue. Curling her hands into fists, Hannah picked up the pace until she was running, eager and angry to stick a needle in this anxiety that had been eating her up for nearly a year. Passing through the archway, she was unnerved to find no one on the lookout; it seemed sloppy and foolish to have no one watching the entrance. But it was a passing thought quickly brushed away, and she shoved her way past the overgrown plants to the hotel door. It was now or never.

She pushed the door open, and following the end of the old creaky hinges came the cocks of several guns. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room just in time to see the shocked denizens realize who had just walked in and the silence was shattered by a thunderous clamour as the guns were abandoned on the floor. Hannah was immediately swarmed by members of the gang, her heart swelling with affection as numerous arms wrapped around her and the quiet lobby sparked to life with questions and cries of surprise and elation.

Annie was the first one to her, the first to wrap her in a tight embrace with tears already streaming down her face. Clint right behind her, swooping them both into his arms, his questions lost to the voices of everyone else babbling and scrambling to see Hannah. For but a moment, Hannah forgot why she had originally come back, hugging and greeting everyone who came to her. Marie, Cooky, Vanessa, and Lewis joined the other two already crowding her.

_ Where have you been? How did you survive? We all thought you were dead! We were told you were taken to Sisika! How did you escape? How did you get captured? Why are you wearing those clothes? You look like absolute shit, have you been eating? We nearly gave up hope! _

“Hannah?”

Hannah’s glee withered like a forgotten flower left to die on the windowsill. Her smile faded immediately and her eyes flickered away from Clint’s face to the source of the query, and standing just beyond the threshold of the parlor room, was Alfred. He looked pale and horrified, and Hannah could easily imagine why. The anger that had momentarily subsided returned like a tidal wave, washing her in a prickling, sick sensation, and she pried Annie’s arms off her shoulders, ready to unleash all her pent up rage.

“Didn’t think I’d be back, didja?” Hannah accused, walking towards him. Her pace was slow, menacing, as the rest of the gang looked on, visibly confused. “Thought I’d’ve been hung by now?”

“More l-like I thought you died on your way to jail.” Alfred responded. Hannah could see her Evans repeater on his back and it made her _ furious _. 

“No thanks to you.” She snarled. “What exactly did you tell everyone?”

Before Alfred could talk, Marie cut in. “He told us he saw you get taken. None of us really know what happened in Blackwater, Hannah, but I swear to you we were working on a way to get you out. We watched Sisika closely for so long, but never once did we see you at the docks or in transport wagons…”

“I was on the island for quite awhile.” Hannah replied, her eyes never leaving Alfred as she advanced toward him, still. “Don’t matter how I got out, does it? Because I’m here now, and y’know, maybe, none of this would have happened, and we all could’ve been spared this grief, if this sack o’ dog shit hadn’t left me to die.” 

Gasps from behind her confirmed what Hannah already knew; Alfred had lied to them. 

“Now, it weren’t like that, Hannah,” Alfred started, putting his hands up. 

“Bullshit. You had a shot at the bastard and you left me there!”

“I was getting help!” 

“You needed help taking down the _ one officer _ who was over me?” 

“You didn’t see the herd of ‘em making their way over to the commotion!”

“I need the both of you to quiet down and tell me exactly what happened.” Marie said, approaching from behind Hannah. “This is the first I’ve heard of any of this. Alfred, you told me that you saw her get grabbed and that she had several officers on her?”

“And that they knocked her out with the butt of a shotgun.” Clint added, sounding angry. 

“He left me to die.” Hannah continued. As she talked, she pulled up her shirt to reveal the messy scarring on her side. Never once did her eyes leave Alfred’s face. “I got _ shot _. He wasn’t getting help. He wasn’t trying to do anything but save himself.”

“What did you expect me to do, take on the entire Blackwater police force on my own?!”

“I _ expected _ you to not be such a pigeon-hearted chickenshit!” 

The next thing she knew, Alfred was pulling the repeater on her. It all happened so fast that at first, she didn’t think she reacted. But, as soon as she saw his hands lower, and begin reaching for the gun, she was quick to lunge forward and knock it away just as he fired at her. The boom of the gun was deafening and plaster rained down on them from above where the bullet had punched a hole into the ceiling. Annie screamed, Lewis and Clint started shouting, and Hannah was sure she heard Vanessa tell her to kick him in the balls.

They struggled over the gun, grunting and snarling, teeth bared like feral dogs. Hannah shoved against the gun with all her might, trying to wrench it out of his grasp. Driven by fury and rage, Hannah easily overcame him, and yanked her gun out of his hands by holding onto it tightly, and then promptly stomping on the top of his foot. When he yelped in pain, releasing the gun in the process, Hannah backed up just enough to stun him with an unforgiving blow to the side of his head and to kick her leg out and send him stumbling back--much to his startled dismay. Alfred fell to the ground, hitting his head on a large, decorative vase, and looked up at Hannah fearfully. 

Having her repeater in her hand filled Hannah with a sense of triumph, and she stepped forward, aiming right at Alfred’s face. Looking frightened, the wiry man held his hands up in surrender, his eyes darting between the barrel of Hannah’s repeater and Marie who merely stood by watching all of this unfold. 

“Look at me, you son of a bitch, not her.” Hannah hissed, her finger resting on the trigger. “I’ve waited a long time for this moment and I want to see the exact moment the life leaves your eyes.” 

“T-Take it easy,” Alfred started, flinching when Hannah took a step closer. “I didn’t leave you to die!”

“Just left me with shotgun pellets in my guts!” She shouted. 

“It was chaos, Denson, what was I supposed to do?! All I saw was blood and I panicked!” 

“So, you ran… like the coward you are, you turned and you ran!” 

“The others needed help! It looked like a fatal shot, I swear it! And I saw Mark needed help, so I went--I went to him because I thought it was too late to save you! Honest to God in Heaven! It was a massacre, and I couldn’t let another Hellcat die to those Blackwater pigs!” 

“Bullshit!”

“It’s not, honest!”

“Even if that was true, you just tried to attack me!”

“You started it!” 

“And you can bet that I am here to _ finish it _!” With that final cry of animosity, she pulled the trigger. 

The blast was deafening inside the hotel walls, reverberating till all was quiet in the lobby. Alfred sat slumped against the now shattered vase, his head sporting a hole in the center of his forehead. Blood poured forth in thick droves, pooling in the hollow of his collarbone and splashing onto the floor as the death rattle escaped his lungs. Behind him, the water stained, off white divider was now splattered with crimson and small chunks of brain that slowly slid down from their initial impact point, leaving a small trail of blood as they slithered down the dirty wall. Morbidly, Hannah can’t help but liken the small gray matter and their trails of gore to snails.

“Gross.” Vanessa muttered, as if reading her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note!! My friend and I have been working on this for awhile, and we would like to say that any similar events OR names are completely coincidental. If you researched time appropriate names for your character, chances are that name may show up, since that is what we did, too.


	3. Chapter 3

It took an hour to clean Alfred’s blood off the walls and floor. Parts of the floor, where the blood had sat longest and began to coagulate, was now stained. A scramble ensued about what to do with the body until Annie offered to turn him into the police for his bounty. Hardly worth the effort, given the man’s bounty was measly, but Marie approved of it and that was that. Garbing herself in several layers of men’s clothes, popping the collar of the last jacket she put on and donning a large hat to hide her angelic features, Annie set out to do just that. Lewis hefted the body up onto his horse for her and watched her go.

Annie may be quite lithe and gangly, but she was also tall, and as Hannah watched her ride away she could easily be mistaken as the big bad bounty hunter she was pretending to be.

“I should go with her.” Hannah said, taking a step towards the door.

“I think you and I need to talk, Hannah.” Marie said quietly.

Clint chimed in. “We all do.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed as she turned to face Marie, expecting to see disappointment on the woman’s face. Marie was never a fan of Hannah’s temper. “What about? Is it because of Alfred?”

“Good riddance, honestly.” Scoffed Cooky, who, as per usual, was right by Marie’s side. Cooky, seeming disinterested with the current conversation, circled behind Hannah. She felt a tug on her head and knew right away Cooky was fiddling with the dreadful knot that her hair had worked itself into. If anyone could fix such a hopeless entanglement, it was Cooky. “Sit down, girl. Let me spare you a trip to the barber and fix this rat’s nest of yours.”

“It’s not because of Alfred.” Marie assured. “But it is important.”

“Too important for me to fix my hair and get some good clothes on?” Hannah joked, snorting.

When no one laughed, or even smirked, Hannah felt her cheeks burn and her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Obediently, she followed Marie into the next room, where several old couches in various states of decay and wear-n-tear sat scattered about the large, spacious area. The moth-eaten, faded curtains parted and the light of the high noon sun poured in through the spaces of the boarded up transom window. Dust particles, illuminated by this light, drifted listlessly through the room. As Hannah plopped down on the nearest couch, more particles were coughed into the air, swirling aggressively upwards in a faded cloud before dissipating into nothingness.

Clint and Lewis lingered in the doorway, both slouching against the wooden frame. The pair of them, usually so jovial and social, merely stood by in quiet detachment. Clint stole side glances from time to time, but Lewis kept his eyes trained on the floor, shuffling his feet across one of the small piles of debris that littered the lobby. Vanessa stood between them, nervously smoothing down one side of her wild, unruly curls. Marie seated herself right beside Hannah, her large, dark eyes gleaming in the light as the first threat of tears began to well. Cooky planted herself behind Hannah and began wordlessly untangling the hopeless coil Hannah’s hair had become as Marie struggled to find the right words.

“There’s simply no other way to say this, Hannah. Forgive my callousness, but even an eternity would not grant me the time to find the right words.”

“Bluntness will soften your suffering.” Cooky whispered, her tone gentle. Marie’s gaze flickered briefly to her, nodding in agreement, before she looked back at Hannah.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hannah asked, canting her head to the side.

“We’re all that’s left.” Marie muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hannah’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“We’re all that’s left.” Marie repeated. “The other Hellcats, Hannah. They’re gone. Those who weren’t gunned down in Blackwater’s streets were shot trying to flee… or… died later by injuries.” Fresh sorrow welled in her eyes and she turned away, wiping at her face in a futile attempt to curb the tears. “These past six months have been dreadful, Hannah. Harrowing and oh, so, so, dreadful.”

“You’re… you’re serious?”

Marie nodded solemnly. She reached out and gently cupped Hannah’s hands in her own. “Gus and Silas survived as well. But the others--”

Hannah stared, disbelief washing over her, numbing her to this miserable news. She glanced around at the other Hellcats, all who conceded to Marie’s story by either nodding or refusing to make eye contact with her. She squeezed Marie’s hand and bit her tongue, trying to swallow down a surge of emotion as she continued to look at each of the remaining Hellcats, one by one.

She looked at Marie, the wife of their leader. A freed slave, relentlessly hunted down by the son of her former slave owner for decades, evading him and his lackeys at every turn. Despite being a woman well into her years, and always on the run, Marie had always had a youthful, vibrant glow to her. But now, she sported dark circles beneath her midnight eyes, and her dreadlocks, usually kept loose and glimmering with jewelry, were pulled into a lopsided bun. The wrinkles that had once been easily overlooked so many months ago were deepened, hard to ignore. She looked tired and in this moment, utterly depressed.

She looked at Cooky, Marie’s best friend and right hand gal. A Native American who joined the Hellcats when she escaped her Reservation and one of the founding members. Her long, thick black hair was brushed over her broad shoulders, and while she still sported her simple turquoise bracelet, Cooky was looking just as ragged and tired as Marie. She was dressed in a simple wash skirt and workshirt, which was unlike her usual attire. Her honeyed eyes, intense as always, shot a pensive look at Hannah as she brushed loose strands from her face, offering a rare smile to the younger woman as she continued to fight with the tangles. The smile, however, was forlorn. Hannah caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes when she looked away.

She looked at Vanessa, a Mexican woman who joined the Hellcats whilst avoiding a violent stalker up near New York, where her family resides. Vanessa’s thick, curly waves always looked springy and wispy, but today it seemed flatter, lacking in volume, as if the intense mourning she’s endured sucked the life out of it. Vanessa wouldn’t look back at her and instead stood between Lewis and Clint in the doorway, facing away, the green flat cap she always wore concealing what her hair did not. But Hannah didn’t need to see Vanessa’s face to know she was just as sorrowful as the rest of them.

She looked at Lewis, Marie’s son, and the way he curled in on himself. His hair had been cut since she last saw him. Before she’d been taken to Sisika, Lewis’ hair was beginning to form quite the sizable, coarse afro--now it was cropped short, with quite the handsome line-up complimenting his sharp features. A pathetic mustache was beginning to form on his upper lip and even from here she could see the razor burn on his cheeks and chin. He refused to meet Hannah’s eyes, and it did not escape her the way he wiped at his nose, trying to mask a sniffle.

She looked at Clint, her best friend, her rock, the man she’d known since childhood. Of them all, Clint looked the same, his face still clean shaven, his long blonde hair still brushed and well kept. He looked at her, and that was the only difference she saw; the misery in his gentle blue eyes. Though he offered a smile, that, too, looked tinged with sadness, and she looked away from him back at Marie.

She thought of Annie, darling Annie, the Hellcats’ ace in the hole. She thought of her sweet nature, her gentle face, and realized why she had been so eager to take Alfred in for a bounty. She simply could not bear to saddle more sadness on her slim shoulders. She thought of Silas, another long time member and the horse caretaker, and wondered what he did with all the other horses of those they’d lost. She wondered if his hair was still long or if he, like Lewis, had chopped it all off. She thought of Gus, their oldest member now, an original founder of the Hellcats alongside Marie and Cooky, and needn’t wonder where he was; Gus was their hunter. Their eye in the mountains. The solitude must be his only comfort.

Lastly, she thought of all the Hellcats they had before Blackwater, all twenty-four of them, and that is when the tears began to fall. She held Marie’s hands tighter.

“Nobody escaped?” Hannah whimpered, looking deeply into Marie’s eyes, trying to pull the answer from those deep brown depths before she had to hear it. “N-no one else survived? Alice? Maude? Lee? What about Walter? H-he was always--”

“We’re all that’s left.” Marie repeated, running her thumbs over the back of Hannah’s hands comfortingly. “We are all that remains.”

“But we--we didn’t have anything to do with any of that! I don’t understand how this happened, I--”

“None of us know what happened, Denson.” Vanessa cut in, still not looking over. “Just a gunshot and then… mayhem.”

A particularly hard tug on a knot made Hannah wince and she jerked her head away--while also pulling her hands away from Marie. Standing, Hannah stormed away from them towards the boarded up window, tears rolling down her face, making clear streaks in the dust and dirt that had coated her during the trip back to Saint Denis. Taking a moment to breathe, to control herself, Hannah wiped the tears with her shirt before turning back to them all.

“And… and William?”

At that, they all flinched, each recoiling away from her in their own way. Marie, she noticed, reached up to hold one of Cooky’s hands, who responded in kind. Clint shook his head ever-so-slightly, holding up a hand discreetly at her, as if to signal ‘not now’. It only confirmed what she already knew, despite her attempt to deny it; William was dead. The man who was responsible for making them all a family, who taught her, Clint and Lewis how to read, a loving husband, a fierce and loyal friend, a strong figure, a guiding hand in all their lives--was gone.

The unspoken truth weighed heavily on Hannah’s heart and without another word, she left the lobby. The remaining Hellcats let her go, watching as she darted up the dilapidated staircase. A sad, collective sigh left them all nearly simultaneously.

Just then, Annie burst into the lobby, still dressed as a burly bounty hunter, smiling widely and proudly holding up a fist that triumphantly uncurled to reveal; one dollar and a couple of cents. “Got the bounty.” She said, sweetly.

* * *

The following day, garbed in cozy, familiar clothes and her hair now brushed and untangled, Hannah walked down the streets of Saint Denis with Vanessa, Annie, and Marie, heading towards the farms that pepper the city’s outskirts. As much as she wanted to stay with them a little while longer, she had promised her new associates that she wouldn’t take long, and had already spent a day and a half in Saint Denis. It was a much welcomed break, and a much needed reunion, but now, Hannah had a job to do, and she intended to do it well.

“I really don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Marie murmured. “You’re working for this LeClerk woman? Doing what, exactly? Putting your life on the line for an upperclassman?”

“She’s a doll, Marie, you don’t need to worry about ulterior motives with her.” Hannah responded, keeping up her brisk pace. “She just wants us, that man and I, to help her dispose of the crooks who put us away and murdered her husband. She seems genuine in the way she burns for justice.”

“It sounds like something out of a storybook,” Annie tittered, sounding wistful.

“I’m more concerned about that man you’re supposed to be galavanting around with.” Vanessa teased, earning a sharp look from Hannah. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You’re awful brave to just agree to work with a stranger is all I meant.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you weren’t attempting to imply a thing. The whole lot of them seem trustworthy enough. I suppose. Besides,” She patted the dual schofield revolvers on her hips. “Now that I have these, I think I’ll be safe.”

“I’m sorry we only managed to get three of your guns.” Marie said. “But, it wasn’t even us who did it. Marvin sent some of his guys over to Blackwater to retrieve… quite a bit of what we lost. You know how he is with his connections.”

“Marvin got them? Shit, give him my thanks.”

“Oh, Hannah, must you hurry off?” Annie whined, wringing her hands as she spoke. “You only just came back to us!”

“I’d love to stay and help everyone get back on track, but I truly can’t. Mrs. LeClerk spent a lot of money on breaking me and Thomas out… it’d be rude of me to just take this freedom and do as I please, without doing her bidding first. Besides; I want to help her. Those suits in Blackwater deserve it for what they pulled. I can’t say much for Thomas, I ain’t too sure what he did or if he’s truly innocent, but I know myself, and I didn’t do anything in Blackwater to warrant hanging. I deserve justice just as much as Jessica.”

“Everyone deserves justice, I suppose…”

“Or a swift kick in the cock.” Vanessa grumbled.

Marie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Must you be so vulgar?”

“Name one upperclass troglodyte that doesn’t deserve a steel-toe to the balls! I’ll wait.”

“Speaking of troglodyte,” Hannah cut in. “Marie… how has the situation with Ernest been?”

A dark, heavy silence fell among them. Hannah regretted bringing that psychopath up almost immediately, but it was a question that had been sitting on her tongue, burning, since she’d gotten out of the bath and into clean clothes. The city was bustling, alive with the sound of hooves and creaking wagons, shouting voices and excited laughter. Several wagon and taxi drivers tipped their hats at the gaggle of girls as they rode by, some even taking their eyes off the road to stare longer. None of them noticed; Hannah wanted an answer and waited patiently for one, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Finally, Marie spoke.

“Nuttier than a squirrel turd. But, he still ain’t found our hideout, so that’s gotta stand for something.”

“It’s something, at least.” Hannah replied mournfully. It would’ve been too much of a blessing for that deranged dunce to have bit the dust while she was locked up.

As they walked, the dusty road slowly shifted into something softer, more unstable. Whilst the ground was still firm enough to walk upon, the swampland was still a mushy, rank, deplorable area with little to no truly firm ground. Thankfully, they were headed towards a small orchard farm, where the ground was the most stable, and as they neared the aforementioned, Hannah began to feel excited. Though her heart was still broken over the news of their immense loss at the hands of the Blackwater massacre, she felt it flutter at the thought of seeing Tano and Silas again.

Crossing through the neat lines of the orchard, and pushing past the overgrown branches of the trees, Hannah came into view of the small stable and shack and the small paddock that accompanied the tiny buildings. The stable was nothing luxurious, but it served its purpose at keeping the horses dry and protected from the hot, suffocating rains. Inside was Vanessa’s Kentucky Saddler, a chestnut pinto named Reginald--a stupider horse did not exist, Hannah would say--and Silas’ old dapple bay Tennesse Walker, named TipTap. TipTap was one of the oldest horses the gang had and even he looked in better shape than the horrible scrawny nag Horley let Hannah borrow. Silas himself, however, was nowhere around.

“Reckon he’s off brushing down Shimmer,” Marie commented, walking closer to TipTap. The old horse nickered softly and pressed his nose against the palm of her hand as she reached out to pet him. “This pregnancy has been a rocky one.”

“Where’s Tano?” Hannah asked. Though she didn’t intend to ignore Marie, she was simply too excited to finally see her horse again. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Maybe in the field?” Annie said, though her question was cut off by Hannah abruptly lifting her fingers to her mouth and blowing hard. A shrill whistle briefly cut through the never-ending dronning of crickets and mosquitos, and, off in the distance, an excited whinny.

Hurrying over to the fence, Hannah made it just in time to see Tano trotting out of the trees. The horse paused, looking around, until Hannah whistled again. Tano whinnied again and cantered towards her, her ears perked. She looked naked without her saddle, but well fed, her coat shining and clean. Hopping the fence, Hannah embraced the Andaulsian warmly, threading her fingers through her deep red mane and pressing loving kisses to her cheek. Hannah backed away and brushed Tano’s bangs to the side, chuckling as the horse nudged her hand aggressively, snorting and nickering excitedly. “Aw, it’s been too long, girl.”

“Hey, Silas! You got a saddle for Tano still?!”

Hannah glanced over her shoulder at Vanessa’s shouting, just in time to see the older man emerging from the old shack, wiping his hands with an old, stained rag. Despite the distance, Hannah could see how tired he looked, and just how ragged he must be running trying to take care of all the horses by himself. He’d gotten thin and, just as she had wondered, his long hair had been chopped, now growing back in a haphazard fashion, barely held in place by pomade. Loose strands escaped the slicked back tresses and hung wildly about his forehead. He was also clean shaven, though that wasn’t anything different. Hearing Vanessa made him visibly annoyed, though that annoyance quickly melted away to surprise. He jogged over, exasperated, and Hannah left Tano long enough to give Silas a hug as well.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Silas whispered, hugging Hannah tight enough that her back cracked. “I coulda sworn to the Heaven’s above that you was already hanged, Hannah!”

“Nothing short of a miracle that I ain’t, friend.” Hannah pulled away, smiling up at Silas. “You look like shit.”

“Smell like it too,” Vanessa quipped. Marie slapped her arm.

Silas flipped Vanessa off without looking at her, then promptly approached Tano, still talking to Hannah. He reached out to steady the excited horse, soothing her with gentle shushing, delicately running his hands over her thick neck. “I can’t believe you’re here! Ain’t been easy takin’ care of the horses on m’ own. Gus helps when he sticks ‘round but y’know how that ol’ fart is.”

“Known him for years and I still don’t know what’s so interesting in those mountains.” Hannah joined Silas in petting and loving on Tano, who eagerly and sloppily consumed a peppermint from Silas’ open palm. “I’m sorry our meeting is so brief, Silas. I’m so happy to see you, but I have business to attend to.”

Silas frowned, looking thoughtful. “Only here for the horse, eh?”

Marie cleared her throat from behind them. “Can Jessica really not wait, Hannah?”

“Afraid not…”

“Who?” Silas asked as he slipped his hand into Tano’s halter and began leading her to the shoddy, sad excuse for a tack shed.

“She’s the one who saved me from the Sisika patrol. I’m--”

“Indebted to her.” Marie finished, the tone of her voice making Hannah flinch. Vanessa and Annie hung back, petting on TipTap and Reginald, as the other three walked to the lonesome building.

“Marie, it ain’t like that…” Hannah murmured, watching as Silas lead Tano into the shade. He gave her a quick once over with a brush and promptly began to saddle her up for Hannah.

“Ain’t like what? Workin’ for a strange woman who only saved you so that she doesn’t need to dirty her own hands? Sure as shit sounds like it. Folks already believe you’re guilty, what’s stopping her from having you kill her husband’s murderer and letting you take the fall?”

“You didn’t see the way she looked when she talked about the people who set it all up, Marie. I understand your concern, I do, but she’s been hurt, she’s been wronged, and I trust her. Is that not enough for you to at least be at peace while I’m off doing things for her?”

Silas handed the bit and bridle to Hannah and she took it with a nod, moving away from Marie to slide the cold steel into Tano’s mouth. As she was slipping the bridle over Tano’s ears, Marie stepped beside her. “I don’t want to risk losing you. Everyone is so happy to have you back…”

“I ain’t too happy.” Silas said flatly, cinching the girth strap with a grunt. “Had a pretty big buyer for Tano. Suppose I can tell the ol’ fucker to beat it now.”

Hannah whirled around, wide-eyed. “You were trying to sell her?!”

Though a tense silence followed her outburst, and the pause in the discussion filled her with a brief flicker of rage, Silas eased her when he finally broke character with a laugh. “Thought you woulda gotten used to my antics after all this time.” He said, walking away. As he did, he scooped saddlebags off the wall, moseyed over to a barrel full of carrots, apples, and a bucket of peppermints, and shoved several handfuls of each into both bags. “Or didja get y’head busted open in the barracks?”

“Yeah, I’ll bust your head open,” Hannah snarked, snatching the saddlebags from his hands and placing them on Tano herself. “Only God can take this ol’ girl from me.”

“You be careful out there, Hannah.” Marie said, crossing her arms.

“I always am. And I’ll be back--when I ain’t doing stuff for Jessica, I will come back here. Always.”

With that, and a final parting hug for them all once again, Hannah rode off into the swamps. She turned back, waving at them all, and continued to wave until she was swallowed up by the winding, serpentine trail and her view was blocked by the towering cypress and tupelo trees. Once they were out of sight, her smile faded, and she turned back around to face the trail before her. It was a long ride back; but it was one she welcomed. The swamp buzzed with life around her, a deafening symphony of the endless drone of mosquitos to the sharp cry of the spoonbills and herons as she spurred Tano on, bringing her from a trot to a canter and, finally, to a full gallop.

She was Great Plains bound and though her heart was heavy for leaving her gang behind once again, in such a short amount of time, she never felt more free as the wind whipped her hair wildly about and Tano’s thunderous hooves carried her onward.

* * *

“Not too bad,” Cripps said, turning over the small chunk of wood in his palms. “Not too bad at all; your cuts are pretty sloppy, though. A damn fine first attempt at a duck head if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Ain’t supposed to be a duck…” Thomas grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

Cripps’ smile slowly faded as he held the small sculpture up, turning it around, investigating it from multiple angles. He looked between Thomas’ face and the wood several times, thinking, squinting, humming in thought. Ultimately, Cripps gave up, and held the not-duck shaped lump back to the other man. “What’s it supposed to be?”

Instead of answering, Thomas flung the wood over his shoulder with a tight shrug. Whilst it wasn’t his intention to come across as rude, he was extremely antsy, and languidly rolled his shoulders as he wandered over to the stew pot to give it another quick stir. The sun was beginning to set and the land was bathed in warm, orange tones as it sank lower and lower beyond the horizon. Ringnecks squawked loudly, taking flight and heading for the sparse trees that peppered the plains in preparation for the predators that stalk the tall grass at night. In the distance, yelping coyotes could be heard, as well as the isolated call of a hawk.

Despite camping so close to a town--Blackwater--the Great Plains was devoid of human activity, with only the occasional wagon or pair of riders going by.

“Don’t be so glum. You know, my pa always told me to stick to stuff.” Cripps said as he quickly scribbled down some lines in his ledger. “Granted, he only said that when it was accompanied with, ‘smear yourself in sap and go see what you can glue yourself to’ which was just his way of telling me to beat it, but, y’get my meaning!”

Thomas snorted as he stirred the stew, though his smile quickly faded upon hearing the distinct sound of a horse quickly approaching. Hanging the ladle, a hand rested on the revolver at his hip as returned to Cripps, the pair of them scanning the plains for anyone unsightly. A white horse was swiftly approaching. At first, both Cripps and Thomas were ready to fire upon the stranger, until said stranger got close enough for them to realize it was just Hannah. Cripps chuckled and politely waved, but Thomas merely glanced down, suddenly more interested in Cripp’s ledger. His hand still clutched the handle of his cattleman as Hannah haphazardly tethered her horse to a crude hitching post and bounded over.

“So glad you could join us!” Cripps said.

“Told you I’d be back, fellas.” She boasted, stopping beside them. She sniffed the air. “Ooh, what’s cookin’?”

Cripps chortled. “Me, in this God awful heat!”

“I hear that. What’s our first assignment, Mr. Cripps?”

“Horley wants ya’ll to meet him in Blackwater. Somethin’ about helpin’ the sheriff’s ‘round here.”

“Don’t think there’s much anyone can do to help these bumbling idiots.” Thomas replied gruffly. Hannah chuckled at that, but he didn’t relax his grip. In fact, he didn’t relax until Hannah went over to the stew pot to investigate the contents and promptly seated herself beside it. Only then did he let his hand fall away from his holster.

Tomorrow was going to be a long, long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Blackwater made Thomas feel thoroughly uneasy. As Hannah spoke with Mr. Horley, and a rather eccentric man named Mr. Jones, he was on high alert, constantly scanning the streets for policemen. He did his best to listen to the conversation, but all he could think about was the looming threat, the far to possible outcome of the Sisika escapees getting noticed, and all of Blackwater rallying together to get them thrown back in prison. Hannah could get tossed back in for all he cared; they were coworkers, if even that, and he was sure she held the same sentiment. But, he truly could not risk going back--if they even would return to Sisika. It was far more likely that they would be ushered to the Gallows and hanged on the spot and the mere thought of that agitated him further. 

Graciously, the conversation ended. A simple task for them to complete; three sheriffs, three separate areas that needed assistance.

Their first stop was Painted Sky Ranch

* * *

* * *

Limpany stood lonesome on the road that parallels the Dakota River, a forgotten shell of a town that lay crumbling in the ashes of its own remains. The skeleton frames of buildings that liter the ruins loom over the scorched land, charred sentinels that hold the secrets of the towns unfortunate demise in the crevices of their cracked, blackened wood. Several groups of men linger here, smoking and chatting lowly, none of them privy to Thomas and Hannah as they crept around to the back of the compound, guns at the ready.

In the bushes they continued their agonizingly slow trek, careful not to alert the guards. They had discussed their plan on the ride to the small town, opting for stealth rather than riding in, guns blazing. Hannah had grown mighty irritated with Thomas’ slow riding and ridden ahead of him to Painted Sky Ranch. It still took him two hours to reach the cliff-side home and her anger could not be understated.

Thomas frowned as Hannah held up her hand and he stopped beside her. She gestured to the single man standing beside the only building still intact, and then began approaching him. Thomas scanned the surrounding area, lifted his repeater quietly, and trained his sights on another guard who was leaning nonchalantly against the rickety fence, gently swaying it back and forth, chewing obnoxiously on a comically large wad of chaw. Glancing back at Hannah, he waited for his cue. He watched as she stood swiftly and jammed the hunting knife into the guard’s neck, pulling it out as the man choked out a dying sound of surprise. Thomas winced, but it was necessary--this world was not a kind one.

Before the guard leaning on the fence could retaliate, or begin alerting the other men, Thomas fired. The guard’s head snaps backwards and he falls to the ground with a heavy flop. Hannah quickly switched her blade for her Evans repeater, managing to pick off two more sluggish guards before the entire camp was finally on high alert and shooting back. Gunshots filled their ears, echoing across the environs as they advanced from their hiding places into better cover in the town of Limpany. Thomas stepped over the corpse of the fence guard, whose forehead now sported a hole that spilled thick rivulets of blood freely, soaking the ground beneath his shocked face. The carbine, stolen from his covey escort, was a pitiful weapon, and Thomas found himself having to fire two or more shots at further targets. Briefly, he mourned the loss of his guns; the ones he was far more effective with. 

Bullets whizzed by and he ducked back into cover, reloading. Hannah fired four more shots, making a brave dive during the brief lull in exchanged gunfire to make it over to Thomas’ cover. Seeing her move, he immediately righted himself back up and intentionally misfired, hoping to throw off the aim of any men who may have had their sights trained on Hannah as she darted over. Crouching beside him, Hannah finished reloading and joined him once more. Head-shot after chest shot, the gang slowly began to dwindle. A startlingly loud ricochet sent them both back into cover. Hannah, panting, peered around the opposite side of the wagon they were using as a safeguard. 

“Thomas?” She said, finally, and he glanced over at her as he flinched from another bullet whooshing by. 

“Yes, Miss Denson?” He replied, inching away from the edge of the wagon just as a projectile shredded the corner of the brittle wood into splinters. 

She gestured to the burnt, crumbling building beside them. “Distract ‘em for me, alright? I just need a bit of time to move, so’s I can flank ‘em.” 

“Flank ‘em?” 

Without another word, Hannah dove once again towards cover, giving Thomas no further instruction. Obediently, he stood back up and started firing wildly again, taking steps out from behind the wagon to, hopefully, draw more fire. Thomas, however, was a large man, and not nearly as small and nimble as Hannah, and refused to step too far out from cover. He kept his eyes trained ahead, landing both lethal and nonlethal shots, before he had to fall back behind cover. A shot missed him, flinging up dirt right in front of his boot, and he panicked, tripping over his own two feet. The gunshots continued, louder now, as reinforcements galloped in from the road and he took cover once more. His heart was pounding, his head splitting with an unforgiving ache, and he crawled to the other-side of the wagon, climbing back to his feet and firing from around the side. 

Blessedly, Hannah did not take much longer, and began picking off the guards who were firing from a higher vantage point, upon what was undoubtedly once a saloon. Alarmed, the men began misfiring in a hapless attempt to kill their attackers, making them much easier to put down. Soon, only one man remained, and Hannah dispatched him quickly. Just as they stepped out from hiding, two men ran out of cover from nearby and began running towards the cluster of hitched horses in front of the town. 

Hannah, having begun loading her Evans, immediately abandoned the task to give chase. She slammed into one of the men before he reached the horses, tackling him to the ground just as Thomas ran up on her. The man struggled, screaming after the other thief who paid him no mind and merely unhitched one of the horses, taking off like a bullet down the road. Hannah struggled with the man under her, finally managed to flip him over, and began hogtying him. That’s when she noticed Thomas.

“What’re you doing?! Get after him!” Hannah shouted.

“After who?” Thomas asked, feigning bewilderment. 

“Crawfish! That’s him--the one riding away! Go after him!” The thief beneath her thrashed and Hannah punched him aggressively in the back of the head. She whistled, sharply, and her horse began trotting up to them. “Take Tano, I don’t care, just go get him!” 

“I--” Thomas bit his lip, glancing behind him as the aforementioned equine approached with a steady gait. “--I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t?! He’s going to get away, you dolt!” 

“I can’t go after him!” He snapped. 

“Why?!” 

“I can’t ride!” 

Both Hannah and the man went eerily still. Hannah finished tying the knots on the man’s wrists and stood up straight, her dark eyes searching Thomas’ face, as if hoping to see this was just a stupid joke. Thomas, in turn, sneered, and looked away, his grip on the carbine tightening. “What do you mean you can’t ride?”

“Ain’t much of a rider.” 

“I-- no, y’know what? You take this fool. We’ll talk about this later. I’ll go after Crawfish and you take this sack of dog vomit up to Arnsdale at Riggs station. You can handle that, at the very last, right?” 

As she spoke, Hannah jogged up to Tano, hauling herself into the saddle and grabbing the reins. Thomas offered a two finger salute as affirmation, and watched as she spurred Tano on with a shrill ‘hiya’. Begrudgingly, Thomas lifted the man off the ground and plopped him down on the back of the closest horse; an overo American Paint mare. Keeping a tentative hand on the mare, Thomas moved to the hitching post and carefully untied the reins, half-expecting the animal to suddenly become agitated and take off. Blessedly, she remained calm, and Thomas considered mounting her, only to decide against it; he would reach Riggs faster on foot, leading the horse.

Once he started walking, the thief spoke up. “You really can’t ride?” 

Needless to say, that man was quiet the rest of the ride.

* * *

* * *

Ahead of them, Hannah was in hot pursuit of Crawfish. He turned around and fired several shots back at Hannah, throwing her off her pace once or twice, but she finally caught up to him. Instead of lassoing him, however, Hannah spurred Tano harder, digging in deep, until she was neck and neck with Crawfish. Just as he went to shoot at her again, she lept off her horse and onto his. In the blink of an eye, he was wrestled to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of them both, but it was Hannah who was up first. She clambered to her feet, hurried over to the man and kicked him over onto his belly. Digging her knee into the small of his back, to keep him restrained, Hannah hogtied him as well. 

Panting, she ran her arm across her forehead and brushed loose strands of fiery locks away from her mouth and eyes. Then, with another whistle, she picked up Crawfish and placed him on Tano’s croup. She patted his cheek mockingly as he struggled against his restraints. 

“Don’t do that, now. You’ll cut your delicate little wrists.” She chuckled and mounted up. She glanced back, down towards Limpany and saw the hindquarters of a horse disappearing behind the treeline. Satisfied that Thomas was on his way, she headed for Riggs station. 

“It ain’t like Arnsdale said it is!” Cried Crawfish. “He’s a madman!” 

“Is he now?” 

“You don’t know him like I do!” 

“Suppose we’ll see ‘bout that, eh?”

About a mile ahead, up a small hill, was the meeting place. Hannah trotted up to Arnsdale and slid off her horse. With a careless shove, Crawfish tumbled onto the tracks with a hefty thud. There, he wriggled in agony, watching as Hannah crossed her arms smugly and Arnsdale paced, anxiously sucking away on a cigar. The minutes ticked by, and Arnsdale’s pacing worsened, becoming more agitated as he grumbled under his breath, occasionally spitting in Crawfish’s direction. Hannah began tapping her fingers on her arm, and then tapping her foot on the rails, before her own irritation became too much. 

“Pardon me,” She said, walking away from Arnsdale and moseying further down the tracks. There, she put a hand over her head to look out over the land, searching for Thomas. At first, she was deeply concerned that she had left him with a violent criminal who had managed to overpower him and murder him brutally on the banks of the Dakota River. That concern was quickly dashed when, as she moved further down the tracks, she caught sight of him leading a horse with the culprit on it’s back. Exasperated, Hannah threw up her hands. “Seriously?!”

After what felt like hours, Thomas finally crested the top of the hill. Arnsdale sneered down his nose at him as the big brute hoisted the other thief off the horse’s back and plopped him on the rails. Hannah stood by, a hip jutting out, her arms crossed, utterly perturbed by these turn of events. Thomas stood on the same side of the tracks as Hannah and Arnsdale, avoiding eye contact with everyone present as Arnsdale stepped over the two thieves. 

“Hello, Clinton.” Crawfish snarled, wiggling against his restraints, straining to look at Arnsdale as he stalked around the two bound men like a tiger, eyeing its prey. 

“Hello, Clinton,” Arnsdale replied, mocking Crawfish’s voice rather poorly. “How’ve you been since we robbed you?” He dropped the act. “Where’s my property?” 

“I don’t rightly know what you’re talking about, Clinton.” 

“Yes, you do. My fine collection of Staffordshire China, gone! My paintings of scenes in Italy, gone! My collection of photographs of fairies, gone!” 

Hannah’s smug smile slowly faded the more Clinton Arnsdale rant went on.

Crawfish thrashed. “It’s all just a big mistake!” 

“Where are they?!” Arnsdale demanded, leaning over to shout right in Crawfish’s face. 

“We invested in them together! You owed us money!” 

“I did no such thing. Where are my things?!” 

“In the basement of your sister’s house!” 

“My sister?” Arnsdale straightened up. “Goddamn her to hell.”

Much like Hannah, Thomas was disturbed by this unfortunate turn of events as well--to think they were hired on over something as petty as photographs of fairies! The absolute gall of this man! Thomas looked at Arnsdale as the man once again spoke up, reaching into his back pocket as he did so.

“Here!” He huffed, thrusting a stack of cash towards Hannah as he began walking away. “Here’s your money. Kill these men, will you?” Arnsdale paused, chuckling darkly. “In fact… don’t kill them. Leave them on the tracks.”

With that, Clinton Arnsdale rode off, leaving the fate of the ‘thieves’ to Thomas and Hannah, who stood side by side in utter shock and confusion, stilled by the sheer baffling reality of what they had just done. Crawfish and his friend wriggled violently on the tracks, frightened, as the train--right on time as always--began thundering around the corner, heading straight for the tied up men. Sharing an incredulous look at each other, the two outlaws unsheathed their knives at the same time. 

“I dunno ‘bout you, Miss Denson,” Thomas said, stepping over one of the men. “But I ain’t about to let someone die over some fine china.” 

“And photographs of fairies. Don’t. Forget. The fairies.” Hannah responded, joining him in freeing Crawfish and his associate. The four of them stumbled off the tracks as the train went chugging along, the conductor seemingly blissfully unaware of the double murder he was nearly complicit in. Crawfish breathed a loud sigh of relief as he watched the train take off on its merry way. 

“For a second there, I thought you were gonna let that train ride right over us!”

“Can’t rightly fault you for thinkin’ that.” Hannah said, sheepishly running a hand over the back of her neck. “We did kinda… y’know.”

“Look, I ain’t gonna pretend I like you or what you’ve done but you wouldn’t kill a man in cold blood just on Clinton Arnsdale’s say so, so maybe you ain’t all bad after all.” Crawfish looked at the pair. “You got what you came here for, didn’t ya?”

Hannah nodded, sticking out her hand. “We did… we square?” 

Crawfish eagerly took her hand and shook it. “Square.” He turned to his associate, gesturing, and the two began running off. “Right, let’s go then. Our quarrel is with Clinton, not them!” 

“Hey, wait!” Hannah called. She crossed the tracks, snatched up the reins of the American Paint, and began leading her towards the men. “You forgot your horse!” 

“Ain’t mine!” Shouted the two ‘thieves’ in unison. Hannah watched them go, perplexed, before turning towards Thomas and thrusting the reins towards him. “Guess she’s yours, ol’ boy.” 

“Wha--”

“Now that_ that _ whole drama is over,” Hannah continued, still trying to hand the reins over. “I would like to know how a man of your age… can’t… ride. You grow up under a rock or somethin’? A little touched in the head maybe? The mind boggles, trying to piece together the circumstances that would line up in such a way that you deemed riding not important enough to learn.” 

Wordlessly, Thomas haughtily snatched the reins from Hannah’s outstretched hand and began walking down the tracks. Hannah followed after him, with Tano closely in tow. 

“Easy there, big fella, I’m just curious is all. Feels like that’s somethin’ you shoulda brought up to Mrs. LeClerk and Mr. Horley is all. Or even Cripps, at the very least. Hell, I would’ve liked to have known beforehand.” 

With only a shrug from Thomas in response, Hannah continued. “Look, quit gettin’ your knickers in a knot, I ain’t trying to poke fun. When I saw you on that sad little horse, I just assumed you were getting used to being back on one.”

“We just killed an entire camp of probably innocent men and you fixate on my inability to ride?” Thomas said, finally stopping. The mare he was leading nickered softly, turning her head to eye Hannah and, more likely, Tano. Hannah patted the mare’s forehead and planted herself firmly in front of Thomas, looking at him intensely. 

“Innocent people don’t arm themselves to the teeth.” 

“They do if their opponent is someone as spiteful and hate-filled as Clinton Arnsdale. I don’t blame Crawfish for wanting protection--Arnsdale is unbelievable.” 

“Mercenaries know what they’re getting into when they take a job and you not knowing how to ride is going to affect our productivity and my safety. At least you’re a good shot.” Hannah crossed her arms and turned away from him, continuing on down the tracks. “When we were riding through Blackwater to meet Mr. Horley, I heard some people saying they heard there was trouble down at MacFarlane Ranch. I say we head on over there and see what’s up, see if we can’t get a favor for a favor goin’ on.” 

“What sort of favor?” Thomas replied, his voice flat. 

* * *

* * *

The favor was access to the corral and one of the Macfarlane’s well broke in horses. Thomas felt utterly humiliated as he rode the Tennesse Walker around the corral at an easy, brisk pace. His cheeks burned with a furious blush as he fervently ignored the two women who stood outside the fenced in area, watching him as he made yet another trip around the training area. Bonnie MacFarlane was a beautiful, if painfully fierce and unceasingly sassy woman, who graciously accepted their help in retrieving her wagon. She seemed apprehensive at first, to let two strangers near her horses, but Hannah managed to convince her--and she, too, seemed to find it all too funny that a grown man could not ride a horse. 

“I’m guessing we at least got lucky you know the difference between its head and its ass.” She said, hands on her hips. Thomas spurred the horse away from the women again. “Quick learner?” 

He ignored her.

“Just rude, then?”

Hannah clapped her hands together. “Forgive him, Ms. MacFarlane. We’re utterly grateful that you’ve let us do this. It’ll save us plenty of grief in the coming months--and maybe some of his face.” Upon realizing what she just said, Hannah bit her lip. That wasn’t a reference to the scars that tear across his visage, but it certainly sounded it, and she stole a quick glance over at Thomas._ Yup, there’s the death glare _.

“Just as you’ve saved me the incessant whining of my farmhands by retrieving my wagon. Three days is an acceptable amount of time for y’all to get some teaching in. Just know, if you try and steal ol’ Bucky there…”

“We wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. MacFarlane!” Hannah gestured over to Tano and the unnamed American Paint, who stood hitched outside the fence line. Tano, despite being the bigger of the two horses, was getting bossed around by the wily little mare, who kept squealing and pinning her ears back every time Tano curiously tried to investigate her. “He’s got one.” 

“Well, ain’t that jus-- Amos!” Bonnie suddenly shouted, the ferocity in her voice making Hannah jump. She whirled around to see a farmhand carrying a large sack of feed towards the stables, though he stopped dead in his tracks when Bonnie yelled at him. “Ain’t I told you not to store the feed in there anymore!?” 

“I… uh, well yeah, Ms. MacFarlane, but--”

“But nothing! Those pesky varmints eat half our bulk when you do that! Put it where I been telling you to put it!” 

“Yes, Ms. MacFarlane.” 

Hannah watched him sulk back in the direction he was coming from and turned to face Bonnie when he heard her sigh heavily.

“I swear,” Bonnie said as she started walking away. “That man doesn’t know whether to check his ass or scratch his watch. Well, I’ll leave you two to it, I’ve got quite a lot of work to catch up on before Daddy returns.”

“Thank you again, Ms. MacFarlane!” Hannah called after, offering an enthusiastic wave to her. Once Bonnie was well out of earshot, Hannah turned back to Thomas and approached the fence, leaning on it with her chin resting on one of the posts with her arms outstretched, wrists limp. “Could you have been anymore embarrassing?” 

Thomas, experimenting with the reins, was turning the old Tennessee Walker in a small circle. “I’ll ask you to keep your comments regarding my face to yourself, Ms. Denson. That was entirely uncalled for.” 

Hannah felt her face flush and immediately tried to defend herself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I saw you fall off that sickly horse when we reached the canyon where those dirty wagon thieves were hiding. It looked like it hurt. I wasn’t talking about your… scars.”

When he merely shot her another look, she quickly changed the subject. “You sure can drive a wagon, though. I could barely keep up with ya. Is that where all the ridin’ lessons went?” 

“My family stuck to donkeys and a mule, for pulling the wagon, for any town runs. Horses were too fragile for the terrain we used to live on. Always found donkeys more reliable.” 

“What? You lie.”

“Naw, ain’t lyin’.” He looked wistful for a moment, a gentle expression Hannah managed to catch a glimpse of, before his brows furrowed once again. “Don’t matter now.” 

“Think three days will be enough for you to get the hang of this shit?” 

“Ain’t like I’m a total greenhorn.” Thomas said incredulously, spurring his training horse into a slightly faster walk. “Three days should be enough for me to, at the very least, be able to keep up with you when we need to move.” 

“Thank the fuckin’ lord.” 

And so, for three days, Thomas practiced riding at MacFarlane’s ranch. Hannah helped out where she could, assisting in protecting the chickens from foxes and coyotes, patrolling the edges of the property with Tano, on the lookout for ne'er-do-wells. When there was nothing for her to do on the ranch, she branched out to help other strangers, all while Thomas focused on how to properly ride a horse above a slow walk. The days were long, hot and unforgiving, and he made sure to take plenty of breaks as to not over exert the horse. At night, he and Hannah would hunker down in the small stable on the edge of the property, next to the cattle-field, and listen to the howl of the coyotes, the soft coo of owls that would shortly be followed by a throaty hooting. 

On the final day, they bid Bonnie a grateful farewell, left the scrawny old horse in her care, and parted ways. Thomas wasn’t an expert rider by any means, but true to his word, he was able to keep up with Hannah and for her, that was enough. After all, they had more work to do.

The Blackwater Sheriff awaited them.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s him, alright.” Hannah said, lowly, as she lowered her binoculars. She and Thomas stood upon a steep hill, investigating the next sheriff from afar. Neither one was keen on helping the man who let them get put away, but it was an assignment, and one they couldn’t rightly ignore. Horley would find out somehow, and Hannah wasn’t willing to bet Jessica would pay for them to get broken out again. Hell, Hannah was sure that her first rescue was her only chance at getting away from Sisika. She glanced over at Thomas as she went to shove her binoculars back into her saddlebag. When Thomas held a hand out for them she placed them into his gloved hand and watched as he peered through the ocular lenses. 

Thomas frowned, deeply, as he watched the pair for but a moment before returning the binoculars to Hannah. Nervously, he ran a hand through his hair and walked back to the horses as Hannah jogged to catch up. “What should we do?” He asked, yanking the reins for his mare off a nearby tree. “We can’t go down there.”

“We can’t ignore Horley and Jessica either.” Hannah replied, jumping into Tano’s saddle. “We owe everything to them. They’re the whole reason we’re even free.” 

“You and I have different definitions of ‘free’, Ms. Denson.” 

“Y’ain’t locked up no more, I’d say that’s pretty free.” Hannah huffed. She stared down at the little camp and felt the first stirrings of anxiety. Biting her lip, she looked back over at Thomas. “What if he recognizes us?”

Thomas ran a gloved hand over his stubble, grunting in response.

“There’s only the two of them… suppose, if he does recognize us, then he ain’t gonna live to tell anybody.”

“Don’t like that.” He said.

“You’ve got quite a way with words. It’s that or makin’ our merry way back to the penitentiary. Personally, I don’t look great with a rope necktie, so I’m heading down.”

Spurring Tano forward, Hannah began making her way down the steep incline towards the Blackwater sheriff. Thomas hung back, worry gnawing away at his composure. The American Paint nickered impatiently, tugging at the bit to follow after Hannah’s horse, and Thomas reluctantly loosened the reins enough to let her begin a steady canter to catch up. Though he was still quite unsteady on the horse, he was rather proud of himself for learning as quickly as he did. That pride was dashed quickly as they neared the small camp.

Between him and Hannah, Thomas knew he was the more recognizable of the pair. As tall as he is broad, he also sports a mean set of scars that everyone seems to notice first. He’s been told how despicable he looks and Mama often belittled him about his tendency to stay quiet. Throw it all into the mix and he comes across as quite the malicious cowboy out for blood. Jessica LeClerk said it best when they first met; _ All because you came to town, didn’t talk too much, and seemed like you were nasty _. Hanging back and letting Hannah do all the talking seemed like the best course of action. 

As they approached, they could hear the sheriff arguing with his associate. “You’re an imbecile.” 

“A what?”

“An idiot.”

“I’m sorry!” The other man, presumably the deputy, replied. “He said he wouldn’t run away!”

“Shut up.” 

“But--”

“Please! Just shut up! They’re gonna fire me. Oh, you, you’ll get to keep your job, but they’ll fire me, and they’ve got every right to fire me because I’m the idiot who employed you!”

_ Ouch _. Thomas thought. He and Hannah dismounted and approached, albeit cautiously. The sheriff, Oswald Dunbar, is an older fellow, well into his years, but nevertheless a valuable asset to the police force in Blackwater. He sports a large, swooping mustache and is donned in Blackwater’s signature onyx police uniform. Thomas tensed visibly when Dunbar’s attention was shifted off his idiotic deputy. 

“Oh look,” Said Dunbar, clearly exasperated. “Guests.”

Before Hannah could say anything, Dunbar continued. “Are you a moron, partner? Huh?”

“Uh…” That was all Hannah managed to say. 

“Well, you can’t be any worse than us. Because this idiot, this idiot right here, just let the most notorious con man in the whole goddamn state, walk clean out of a cell, clean out, and not a shot fired!”

“That’s uh…” Hannah cleared her throat. Her gaze shifted to the deputy, who glanced over to the side and sighed, defeated. So far, so good; the chief seemed too upset about losing this con man to really notice just who he was talking to. “...quite unfortunate, sir. But we’re here to help.”

Dunbar looked back at her and Hannah’s hand went to rest on her holster. He was eyeing her up, and her heart began beating faster and faster the longer the silence went on. _He knows who I am_, she thought. _No, he knows who_** we**_ are._ _This con man ain’t gonna matter now that the two Sisika escapees are right fucking here, just walked right up to him, he’s_\--

“Now,” He drawled on, seemingly unaware of how nervous the two strangers before him were as he started approaching them. “If you can get him back for us, we’ll happily pay ya. How about that?”

_ Oh? _ “I--yes, yessir, we absolutely will!” Hannah asked, relief washing over her. “Do you happen to know where he took off? We’ll get him, we’ll get him good. Ain’t that right?” She looked back at Thomas, who stood with his arms crossed a few paces behind her. He looked baffled and simply nodded in affirmation.

“Good, good. Now, see, what I figure, I figure he’s headed on down to Pike’s Basin, so you go down the canyon, and you get him,” He shot a murderous glance at his deputy. “And I’m gonna beat this poor dumb bastard with a stick.”

Both Hannah and Thomas snickered at that. 

Dunbar climbed into his horse’s saddle and started trotting away. “I’ll try to meet ya on the other side. Down by Old Coot’s Chapel.” He shouted. 

As soon as they were both gone and well out of earshot, Hannah breathed a heavy, long sigh of relief, forcing herself to relax her tight shoulders. Whatever the reason, be it stress or time or a combination of the two, Dunbar hadn’t recognized them. For Hannah, the why and the how didn’t really matter; all that mattered was that he wanted their help and wasn’t planning on slapping cuffs on their wrists. Elated, Hannah practically skipped over to Tano, shooting Thomas a sneering grin. 

“That went better than I expected. C’mon, let’s not keep the ol’ fool waitin’.”

Nodding, Thomas hopped up onto his--still--unnamed horse and spurred her forward until they were standing side by side. 

Hannah leaned up in her saddle, using the stirrups to stand up, and scanned the surrounding area in the general direction that Dunbar had gestured. Furrowing her brow, she nudged Tano forward, swiveling her head around, looking. Thomas looked around them as well, wondering if she’d heard something he hadn’t, and was immediately back on edge. 

“So… do you know where Pike’s Basin is?”

“Seriously?”

“What?! Look, I don’t come down here often! This whole place sucks! Nothin’ but dirt and sticks!”

“We’re a rock’s throw away from it, Ms. Denson.” 

“Lead the way then, smartass.”

“No need for name callin’.” 

Pulling ahead, Thomas spurred the mare into a trot. Tano easily caught up to the smaller American Paint, who’s ears pinned against her head briefly. They moved in silence, with only the steady beat of hooves and the crackling of dry grass to accompany them. Pike’s Basin is a deep, winding ravine, a narrow valley surrounded by tall red cliffs and peppered with agave, cacti, and dry bushels of mexican thread grass. The canyon is often home to vagabonds and criminals who use it’s curvy trails and high cliffs to their advantage; though the basin is quite the double-edged sword and few stay longer than a day or two. After all, the cliff’s edge can be a danger just as much as it can be protection.

Nearing the path that led down into the chasm, Thomas caught sight of a few men on guard duty patrolling the passage into the canyon. The best course of action might be to sneak down to the bottom, disposing of the undesirables along the way, until a gun fight was necessary. Recalling how stealthy Hannah was back at Limpany, he figured it’d be best for him to offer cover while she cleared the way down the canyon. That was his plan. Was. 

Instead, just as he turned back to ask Hannah if that seemed like a solid enough plan, the mare he sat upon came to a sudden and abrupt stop right at the edge of the canyon. Thomas, being wobbly in the saddle, was immediately flung forward from the abrupt shift in momentum. Over the edge of the canyon he went with a short, startled cry, landing with a heavy thud upon the path with enough force to knock the wind out of him. Thankfully, the drop was not a long one, and the mare had flung him away from the gaggle of rocks that gathered at the base of the cliff, but a dull ache already began to throb below his ribs. Coughing out a mouthful of dirt and groaning, Thomas managed to pull himself onto his knees just as Hannah came bounding over, her Evans clutched tightly in her fists. The whole front of him was bathed in the pale dust.

Not so thankfully, his fall had alerted the guards, and Pike’s Basin came to life with the sounds of gunshots and shouting, angry voices. 

Hannah patted Thomas’ shoulder, sending a puff of dust up as she did so. “Up and at ‘em, big guy. They know we’re here.” 

* * *

* * *

The battle through Pike’s Basin was a long and harrowing experience. Initially, they had easily removed the mass that congregated around their target, and Hannah and Thomas had falsely believed it would be simple enough to just carry him out of the canyon. Just as they loaded the con man onto Tano, a startlingly loud explosion boomed across the environs, sending the usually steady and iron willed steed into a rear that threw both her rider and captive. Before Hannah could calm Tano, the horse bolted, whinnying and kicking up quite a trail of dust, leaving them without a mount. Reinforcements blocked the way they came in and he tethered, abandoned horses were too spooked to ride. They had to fight their way through the canyon.

With the conman hoisted over Thomas’ shoulder, Hannah led the way, gunning down anyone who got too close. Cover was minimal, and as more and more men began appearing on the multi-leveled cliff edges, the more they both began to fret and panic. With only a cattleman to assist her with, Thomas did his best to help fight off the aggressive and furious gang members. The unforgiving sun beat down on them mercilessly, their nostrils burned with the sharp scent of gunpowder, and by the time they finally reached the end of the canyon, they were both sweaty and filthy, coated in dust and blood. All the while, the conman whined and wriggled the entire way, and as they approached the small camp, Thomas lowered his arm and let the outlaw roll right off his shoulder and onto the ground. 

“Stiff?” Hannah asked, glancing over at Thomas as she approached the conman. Thomas rolled his shoulder several times and stretched, shaking the tension in his shoulders away. 

Before Thomas could answer her, the conman rolled around to face them. “Look… let me go. Just let me go.”

Hannah pretended to ignore him and set about dusting herself off. Pulling the collar of her shirt up, she wiped away the combination of dust and sweat that had caked against the edges of her hair and under her chin. Her dark eyes scanned the surrounding area and, thankfully, there were more horses they could use to get this moron back to Sheriff Dunbar. Curious, Hannah whistled for Tano anyway; but she did not come. She wasn’t worried, though--Tano was a good horse who never went too far, even when she ended up spooked like she was.

The outlaw, desperate, wriggled harder to get their attention. “I-I’ve got money. I’ve got a lotta money, and I’ll pay, pay a lot!”

“Do ya?” Hannah replied, sounding uninterested. Thomas walked up beside her, standing with one hand on the handle of his cattleman and looking none too pleased with these turn of events. 

“Here’s an idea,” The conman went on. “Take my hat. Put it on the dead guy over there!” He looked over at one of the corpses that littered the ground. “You take him in, as me, I go free, and you get rich! O-oh, and I won’t kill anyone else! I swear. I’m reformed. I’m a changed man!” 

Hannah snorted while Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Please, please, I’m begging you, set me free. Have a heart!”

Sharing a deadpan look at each other, Hannah and Thomas looked back at the groveling outlaw who stared up at them with hopeful, sparkling eyes. A sanguine expression that would quickly fall into a sour look of trepidation. 

“Miss Denson,” Thomas said, tapping a glove finger along the handle of his cattleman. “I do believe this man thinks we were born yesterday.” 

“Oh, I agree. What else should we expect from the _ most notorious conman _ ,” At this, she lowered her voice and gave her best impression of Oswald Dunbar, with dramatic fists to the sky to boot. “ _ In the whole goddamn state? _”

“What else but fancy lies dressed up like they’re the truth?” 

“Maybe he’ll even give us a palace of chocolate and golden spurs.”

“Ain’t that just swell?”

“Fuck you!” Snarled the conman.

Chuckling, Hannah pulled her hair back to fan the back of her neck as she headed towards the hitched horses. “Get ‘im up. Let’s get him over to Dunbar.”

“You’re too dumb to know a good deal when you hear one!” He shouted, thrashing as Thomas lifted him back up onto his shoulder. “What is it, huh? Too stupid or too good to take my money?! Go ahead, try and be a saint then, we’ll see how long that lasts!”

Thomas elbowed him in the head, his only warning to stop while he had the option. Setting the outlaw on the back of Hannah’s horse, he climbed onto his own borrowed steed and they began trotting out of the canyon and out into the areas surrounding Armadillo. Leading the way to Old Coot’s Chapel, he could hear Hannah damn near beating the man to death every time he so much as uttered a single syllable. The reunion with Dunbar was short, sweet, and to the point, and with a final pistol whip to the side of his head, the outlaw with the stupid and ugly hat blessedly went silent. 

And joyously, Dunbar galloped away without a second look at the two strangers he had asked for help. Hannah grinned real wide and for just a moment, she didn’t feel quite as miserable. There were no questions, no ambush, nothing but sweet respite in the shade of the old chapel and a handful of cash. Smugly, she began counting it out evenly and held Thomas’ cut out to him just as he leaned against the weathered, damaged bricks of the chapel with a heavy sigh. 

“I really thought he was gonna have a whole posse here to arrest us.” Hannah admitted, plopping down on the steps. Sitting in the shade to collect herself was a welcome break and she leaned back, stretching out her legs and arms as far as they would go. Then she returned to brushing off as much dirt and grim as she could manage. “That would’a sucked more than a babe on its mother’s teat.” 

Thomas hummed an agreement. His mind was elsewhere and it was all too apparent as he rested a hand on the chapel and ran his fingers across it. His expression was desolate, despite the tenderness of the gesture. He only seemed to snap out of it when Hannah whistled sharply. “Will she come?”

“Who?”

“Your horse.”

“Tano? Surely. She’s a good ol’ girl, loyal as can be. Only answers to my call, y’know, and I figure she might be with that little mare of yours, too.” After wiping her forehead with her arm, she pointed to the ridge overlooking the road to Armadillo. “When we were headin’ this way, coulda sworn I saw ‘em both up that’a ways. When Tano comes, yours should too.” 

Thomas nodded, seemingly impressed, as he lifted a hand to shield his eyes and look towards the ridge Hannah had mentioned. Hannah stayed quiet for a bit, but her curiosity was starting to get the better of her. It was a question that she had had since she first laid eyes on him, an urge to simply know that grew stronger with each passing day. Before she could ask, however, Thomas leaned over and scooped up the outlaw’s hat. He examined it with disinterest and then set it on one of the spikes of the fence that guarded the pitiful, lonesome graveyard.

He spoke before she could. “Horley said our next fella’s down in Tumbleweed.” 

Hannah didn’t bother to conceal her sneer. “Don’t remind me. Ain’t been down there m’self, but… heard things. Ain’t looking forward to goin’ down there.” 

“Not in a rush to go there, either.” He ran a hand through his hair before turning to her. He looked pained and conflicted. “Armadillo is the closest to Tumbleweed, but I ain’t ‘bout to fill up on water in a diseased town. Gettin’ to Tumbleweed is at least a two day trip, three if the weather’s disagreeable.”

Hannah tapped her boots together. “Know the area well, do ya?”

He tensed visibly and turned away. 

She tilted her head at that. 

“Horley didn’t say when we had to help the sheriff’s.” Thomas went on, pulling the cattleman out of its holster. He held it up for Hannah to see without turning back to her. “And if it’s all the same t’you, I’d like to not go out into that lawless desert with only this and a carbine.” 

“You got the money for better guns?”

“Not exactly.”

“Lookin’ to rob som--”

“_ No. _” Short, sharp, and above else, angry. It was the first time he’d ever cut her off. 

“I like ya so far, Thomas Shepherd, but not ‘nough to buy you better guns.” She teased. 

“Ain’t asking for that either.” With a grunt, he leaned against the wall of the chapel and sank down into the dirt, kicking up a sizable dust cloud as he did so. After wiping away the beads of sweat that gathered on his forehead, and had begun to curl the hair at his hairline, he looked over at her again, finally. “I need t’go to Saint Denis.” 

Hannah’s interest was piqued and she sat up, leaning on her knees. Before speaking, she gave another sharp whistle, hoping Tano was in earshot. Then, she turned her attention back to Thomas. “What’s in the city?”

“My guns, I hope.” He stared at the cattleman in his hand as he ran his thumb along the barrel of the gun.

“Wait, what? Your guns are in Saint Denis? Why didn’t you just come with me when I went there first!” 

“I didn’t figure they’d be there,” Rather than being argumentative, he sounded defeated and almost sad. “I thought they’d be at home.”

She had to know. “Is your gang in Saint Denis? Is that why you want to go there?”

Immediately after asking, she regretted it. His attention snapped to her and he looked _ furious. _ She’d seen gators with less of a mean look and, suddenly feeling awkward, she pretended to get up to look for Tano on the horizon, though really she was just avoiding eye contact.

“I look the type to run with a bunch of lawless crooks and murders?” 

“Look, I barely know ya, so I just… y’know, assumed. You look like you pick and win knife fights for a living is all I’m saying.” 

“I’m appalled.”

“Gangs ain’t that bad,” She didn’t get to finish her statement.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

"Well, they aren't..."

“The hell they aren’t!” Thomas barked. “What good do they bring? I see nothin' but chaos every time I've had the displeasure of meetin' any! They're all nothing but a bunch of pillaging, thieving, murderous fools who think they're above the law, God, hell, plenty of 'em probably think they're above Death himself. Ain’t enough trees in Tall Trees to hang ‘em all high and leave ‘em for the birds.”

Hannah felt a heaviness grow in her stomach as she listened to him rant. The sheer vitriol in his voice as he talked about people like her made her feel uneasy for the first time since she saw him by the wagon in Jessica’s camp. Marie always told her a person’s voice, the words they use, can give away just as much as their eyes, their actions, and the tones of Thomas’ dripped with pure animosity. Swallowing thickly, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “Pardon me for my assumption, then. You got a mean mug is all. If you don’t mind me askin’, why would they be in Saint Denis?”

“No guarantee they are.” Using the heel of his boot, Thomas dug a little groove into the dirt. “But, my sister is there. She might have them and some answers for me.”

Silence once again fell between them. Hannah kicked at the dirt, feeling sheepish, but also worried. Originally, she wondered if he was a part of a gang, and when he mentioned Saint Denis she got worked up, unsure if a new gang had rolled into town and was causing her beloved Hellcats problems. She’d wondered if Thomas was as valued a member as she was, and if he’d gotten those scars from a war between a rival gang. But she was wrong. He hated gangs. Would he tell the police, if she brought him near the Hellcats? Was he a liability that could put them all behind bars or up on the Gallows? Just the thought of it made her feel queasy. Off in the distance, she could see Tano and the unnamed mare approaching, but it did little to ease this newfound concern.

Hannah could warn the members of her gang to avoid him. It was something she was considering deeply. So deeply, in fact, that she did not hear Thomas talking until he called her name. 

“Miss Denson?”

“What?” She looked back at him. “Sorry, I uh… saw a giant bug.” Before Thomas could inquire further; “What’s your question?”

“I was just… curious ‘bout somethin’. You don’t gotta answer.”

“Ask away.”

“What did you do, before all this?” He gestured vaguely with both arms. “Helpin’ Mrs. LeClerk, I mean.”

_ Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! _ Without thinking, Hannah said the first thing that came to mind. “Hotel work.”

Thomas looked deadpanned. “Hotel work…?”

_ He doesn’t believe that a bit. Shit. No way he believes that. I’m taking acting lessons from Clint and Annie when I get home. _“What, never heard of ‘em? Yeah. Did odd jobs around a hotel.”

“What were you doing in Blackwater? Did you work in the hotel there?”

“How’s about one question at a time?” Hannah replied, sweating for a different reason now. “What about you? What did you do?”

Thomas finally holstered the cattleman he’d been holding. Behind Hannah, their horses had finally arrived. “Rancher, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Never really got it up and runnin’. One disaster after another.”

“Wouldn’t of thought rancher for you, Thomas.” Hannah said as she approached Tano. The Andalusian nickered sweetly and pressed the nose into Hannah’s hand. “Seein’ you can’t ride, but can shoot damn good. Have a bunch of bandits botherin’ ya?”

“This world ain’t kind enough to not know your way ‘round a gun, Miss Denson.”

“Fair enough.” Hannah hoisted herself up onto Tano, giving the horse an appreciative pat as she settled into the saddle. “Oh, and will you quit calling me that? We’re way past pleasantries now, don’t you think? Call me Hannah. And let’s get a movin’, it’s a long ride to Riggs Station.”

Thomas stood up without a word, dusted himself off briefly, and quietly approached his mare, who was tossing her head around and yanking at her bit. Hannah watched in silence as he rested a nervous hand on the mare’s forehead, soothing her with gentle shushes and tender strokes. She snorted and pawed the ground in response, but blessedly, did not run. Once he deemed her calm enough, he climbed into the saddle, nearly fell off on the other side, then turned her around to face the road.

“You ever gonna name her?” Asked Hannah. 

“I thought of several… I think I settled on Echo.” 

“...Seriously?”

Thomas sneered. “What? What’s wrong with it?”

“You that impressed with the sounds of echoes that you’d name a horse after it?”

“No!” He patted the mare’s alabaster mane. “My sister gifted me a book on Greek mythology some winters ago. She said it came straight from England from a prestigious college. Ain’t sure how true that is, but it was an interesting read. Anyway… one of the stories was ‘bout a nymph or somethin’ that angered a goddess and as punishment, she could only say what was last said to her.”

“That’s… somethin’ else, Thomas.” 

“You wanna keep makin’ fun or shall we discuss Tano's name?”

“I’m not! Damn, c’mon, let’s just get going.”


	6. Chapter 6

Even this late into the evening, the streets of Saint Denis was a bustling, noisy mess. Droves of people from all walks of life crowded the tightly packed sidewalks, and wagon drivers of various professions and sizes dominated the streets. Over the symphony of horse hooves and high heels and boots clacking away upon the cobblestone and brick was the endless, mindless chatter and the shrill whistles of the boats pulling away from the docks. Saint Denis smelled of horse shit and beer piss, but one could catch a whiff of the Chinese food being prepared in the China district or the sweet, crisp scent of freshly baked bread, or even the spicy aroma of Cajun dishes on the wind. All of it would very quickly be consumed by the stench of the city.

It was sensory overload and Thomas was regretting coming here. 

As the train pulled into the station he only felt his anxiety worsen and he was off the train before Hannah had finished rubbing her eyes and stretching. During the ride, he had convinced himself that it’d be better to just get it over with--to go and see his sister, swallow down her insults and judgement, and move on to the next task. But, now that he was here, and retrieving Echo and Tano off the cargo end of the train, he was having doubts. Those doubts swirled and pinched in his belly, making him feel nauseous; but he simply had to know if she knew where Mama was and if she had his guns. Grumbling a gruff thanks to the train worker, Thomas took the reins of both horses and led them away from the locomotive and out onto the streets, where Hannah promptly joined him. 

“Come here often?” Hannah asked, snatching Tano’s reins from his hand. He didn’t seem to care and instead sloppily climbed onto Echo. “You need to practice more, bud.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Hey, take it easy. I’m just sayin’...” 

“Well, say less.”

“Well,  _ excuse me _ .” Hannah spat, turning and haughtily climbing into her saddle and pulling the reins to face Tano away from Thomas. 

The tone of his voice put a glower on her face, but it she couldn’t really blame him. Small talk was never her strong suit. Instead of prodding further, Hannah crossed her arms and watched the crowds bustle about like ants through the streets. Her thoughts soon drifted, however, and she began to wonder if she could get back to the Hellcats to warn them to avoid Thomas before any of them found him first. 

Getting to and talking to Marie first would be her best bet. As the leader, the others were more inclined to listen to her over Hannah, but Hannah wanted--no, needed--them all to stay away from him. The acrimony in his vicious tirade still had her on edge, and a plethora of curious questions had replaced her previous ones; what had happened to him that made him hate gangs so? Did it have to do with the scars on his face, or why his farm could never properly get up and running? More importantly; what kind of threat does he pose to the Hellcats?

_ I think I would have preferred a turf war over this… _ Hannah thought. Just as she was about to spur Tano forward and bid Thomas a brisk and unfriendly farewell, a familiar voice called to her over the sounds of the city. 

“Hannah! Oh, Hannah!” 

She winced. It wasn’t hard to spot Annie in the crowd; she was quite a tall lady, after all. Donned in her signature pink work dress, her sunshine tresses pulled into an easily maintained braid, Annie was pushing her way through the crowds, dodging the vendors and city goers with ease. As she got closer, Hannah could see she’d been crying, and she was immediately on high alert. Throwing a glance back at Thomas, hoping he hadn’t heard or seen Annie, Hannah hopped off Tano swiftly and ducked into the crowd to meet her halfway. 

Grabbing her by the arm, Hannah pulled Annie off to the side behind some boards that dot the threshold of the train station. “What on earth are you doing here?!” She hissed. 

“I could rightly ask you the same thing!” Annie gripped Hannah’s hand pitifully. “ Please, Hannah, they got her! They took her in the night and threw her in jail!” 

“Wait, who? Who’d they get?”

“Little Rose!” Annie wailed, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie she pulled from a hidden pocket in her dress. 

“Annie, I don’t know who that is…” 

“She’s a friend from Doyle’s Tavern. Oh, they’re sending her to Rhodes to be tried for theft. Rhodes! Her! A woman! They’ll sentence her to death there for sure!” Fresh tears started to spill out and she fruitlessly blotted at them. “She’s the sweetest thing, simply the sweetest. I tried to talk to the lawmen at the station but they weren’t having any of it!”

The mere mention of Rhodes put a deep frown on Hannah’s face. The entire state of Lemoyne was backwards enough without one of its core settlements being so harrowingly barbarous. She despised making trips to the saloon there with Marie to meet up with one of her long time associates--it was just an awful, dreadful place. Hannah knew that she should say no, that there were other, bigger priorities that she needed to focus on, but Annie’s large, miserable eyes were hard to turn down. 

Thinning her lips, looking over at Thomas who was--_thankfully_\--still preoccupied with the city sights, Hannah threw up her hands in defeat. 

“Alright… I can get her. Only kinds of people who deserve to get tried in Rhodes are the idiots who live there.” 

“Thank you, thank you!” 

“I need you to do me a favor in return, though.” Hannah said lowly, moving Annie a little more into the shadowed part of the station. “I need you to find Marie and to tell her, to tell everyone else, to avoid the man Thomas Shepherd as much as y’all possibly can.”

Annie’s happy little smile faded. “Why? Oh! Wait, isn’t he the other escapee--” 

“I don’t have a lot of information yet but… I have reason to believe he might not be kind enough to live and let live.” 

“Just what do you mean by that?” 

“He’s got a real thorn in his side ‘bout gangs. Shoulda heard him, ranting and snarling like a rabid wolf on how gang members should all be strung up.” Hannah crossed her arms. “I don’t want to risk him reporting us to the law.”

“Surely he wouldn’t? They would just take him in, too.” 

“Not if he bargained for his freedom and exoneration.”

Annie frowned at that. “You think so?”

“Ain’t given me a reason to think otherwise.” 

“Then… I will. But I am not certain if she is home just yet…”

Hannah grinned. “Thanks.” Clapping her hands and rubbing them together, Hannah glanced in the direction of the police station. “Now, if you want me to save your friend, I need some details. You got any useful information for me?”

“I do! They’re not transporting her till morning. And I overheard them whispering about how they’re not too concerned with her, so they won’t be heavily protected. Said they can’t spare multiple men for just one woman.” 

“What does she look like?” 

“I think she’s the only one getting moved, but she’s got black hair and blue eyes. Tiny thing. She’s awful quiet, too.”

“Good. Good stuff to know. Can I know what you were doing down at the police station?” 

“My daily rounds to remove bounties, of course. I haven’t seen Marie’s up in quite some time, not since you got out.” Annie cupped her hands together. “You’ll get her, then? She’s got the sweetest soul. She’s so gentle, I can only imagine her gratitude when you two ride up and bust her out!”

“We’ll get her, Annie. Hurry on back, okay? Marie needs to know about Thomas.”

Nodding, and blowing Hannah a kiss to show her gratitude, Annie hurried away into the station, using the large crowd to her advantage. As soon as she was out of sight, Hannah turned around and scanned the crowd for the aforementioned. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, he hadn’t budged, and still sat upon Echo as lifeless as a porcelain doll. She could not read his expression or even begin to decipher what he was thinking. Some people were open books, but her fellow escapee was not one of them. Throwing one last look over her shoulder to ensure Annie was out of sight, Hannah made her way back to the docking platform. 

Approaching Echo, Hannah rested her hand on the mare’s forehead and began rubbing small circles as she looked up at Thomas. “You in a rush to get to your sister?” 

“Not… particularly.” He replied. It sounds selfish, but sometimes, facing family is a terrifying endeavor, a feat more tortuous than riding into a camp of outlaws armed to the teeth. At least you could put an outlaw in his place. As desperate as he was to find out about Mama, he knew his sister would be none too kind about him just showing up on her doorstep. “Why?”

“Got a job for us to do.”

“We’ve been here all of ten minutes, Ms. Denson.” 

“Gotta be fast in city life. You in?” 

He shrugged.

“Don’t be that way.” Hannah scolded, giving Echo a few more loving pats before heading back to her own horse. “I can give you the details along the way. We got a long night ahead of us.”

* * *

* * *

The cell was a chilly imprisonment that offered no warmth wherever you turn. The floor was marble, sleek and clean, as cold and unforgiving as the dark eyes of the lawmen that leered at her if she so much as bumped the bars. The bed was wooden, polished to a lustrous shine with only a thin, lightweight blanket that offered no more warmth than the clothes she’d been tossed in with. The bars themselves, the very embodiment of the frigid, unforgiving hand of the law. Her crime had not been a bad one, but that’s what they all say, isn’t it? 

Instead of kicking up a fuss or trying to escape, she accepted it, and sat motionless on the bed till morning light.

The policemen were none too kind to her as they barged into the cell and yanked her by her arm out of the station and into a prison wagon. Even with no resistance from the small woman they still jerked her about hard enough that bruises would form upon her pale flesh where their hands had been on her. The city was quiet, blanketed in a thick layer of fog, choked with humidity and mosquitoes. There was a slight chill in the air and the young woman shivered, though it was not due to the temperature. She was headed to Rhodes, and doubted she would come back out alive. She watched as the city gave way to swamp, and then as the swamp gave way to farmland, she leaned her head against the bars and closed her eyes. It was her own fault that she’d gotten caught--she never should have tried to steal from the mayor’s house. She’d gotten cocky, plain and simple, and now, she would pay the ultimate price. All for a measly chain meant for a pocket watch. 

With nothing better to do, she watched the plain white fence roll by listlessly. 

“Are y’shittin’ me?” Said one of the officers. She perked her head up as the wagon rolled to a stop. Trying to peer to the front, she managed to catch sight of several wagons blocking the path. “Look at this!”

“Betcha it was one of these families here. What a mess.”

“We’ll report it to Sheriff Grey. This is unacceptable; ain’t he got patrols out here?”

“Aw, quit your belly-aching. We’ll just go through Bolger Glade.” 

At that, the officer backed the prison wagon up and then whipped the horses down a different path. The sudden shift in speed send the young lady against the bars unceremoniously and she rubbed her head with a sneer. Sunlight filtered in through the canopy of trees, dappling the ground with splashes of morning light as the escort made its way towards the glade. The officers were talking softly, but she wasn’t focusing on them. Her head snapped to a cluster of trees near the decrepit old church that sat right on the edge of the battlefield. She could have sworn she heard something? A horse’s snort, perhaps? Worried it was the Lemoyne Raiders, she scooted to the back of the cage and tried to get the attention of the officers. 

That was when a woman, atop a pale horse, burst from the treeline. Clutched in her hand was a repeater rifle and her fiery red hair billowed behind her as she galloped by, placing herself right in the path of the prison wagon. 

“Keep clear.” Said one of the officers, drawing his revolver in warning. “Inmate transport.”

* * *

* * *

“Mornin’, boys.” Hannah called, her voice a fake, saccharine ploy of innocence and curiosity. She caught a glimpse of Thomas behind the crumbling wall that lay just a few paces from the road, his rifle at the ready. “Mind if we talk a spell?” 

“Ain’t got the time, lady. Move along.” Spat the one holding the revolver. 

“I won’t take long, I just have a question.” 

“ _ Move along _ .” The demand came harsher this time, accompanied by the click of the hammer being drawn back. 

“_My_, you Saint Denis officers are so prickly.” Clicking her tongue twice, Tano slowly stepped out of the way of the wagon. She caught a glimpse of the young woman in the wagon, who stared at her intensely with wide, pale blue eyes. Her attention returned to the guards. “You won’t even humor me?” 

“If you’re looking for jokes, ma’am, head to the theater.” 

Hannah whistled sharply, once, and began trotting away. Or, it seemed like she was. As soon as the officers turned to make sure she was truly leaving, twin shots rang out and with a spray of blood, the one driving the wagon slumped over and fell off his seat onto the ground below, landing with a sickening thump and at an unnatural angle. The remaining officer noticed Thomas, who had been the one to fire the shot, immediately, and lifted his gun at him; not that it mattered. With another startlingly accurate shot, from Hannah this time, the officer jolted forward and tumbled off the wagon. The horses, frightened by the gunshots, took off running and trampled his body beneath their hooves. The young woman hadn’t made a single sound this entire time, and merely curled up to protect herself should the wagon crash. 

Tano easily caught up with the slower draft horses, giving Hannah the chance to leap over onto the wagon and stop it before it got too far. As fast as she was, however, she was not fast enough to notice or stop a nosy man upon a tiny morgan that had come to investigate the gunshots. She only perceived him thanks to the cloud of dust he kicked up as he hightailed it towards Rhodes.

“Thomas!” Hannah yelled. “Get her out, will you? And make it quick--someone saw. I’m gonna loot these idiots, see if they got anythin’ worth takin’ on ‘em.” 

“Good luck gettin’ somethin’ off roadkill over there…” He replied, gesturing to the officer that had gotten crushed under the horses’ hooves. 

“You’re telling me… hurry it up. Who knows if they have patrols nearby.” 

Obediently, Thomas slipped the strap of his rifle on his shoulder and jogged over to the wagon. Pulling his hunting knife, he went about trying to pry open the lock. He glanced up at the woman as he jammed the knife into the keyhole and saw how frightened she was. Her eyes were blown wide and she had herself pressed into a corner of the wagon, her frighteningly pale fingers clutching the bars of her cage with a vice grip. Her raven hair was covering half her face and her chest rose and fell rapidly, as though she was hyperventilating. Her attention kept darting between Thomas and Hannah, who was too preoccupied with looting.

“Hey…” Thomas said, quietly. “We’re not here to hurt you. Take it easy.” 

She didn’t say anything, but she did react. She tensed even more and her eyes, manic and furious, shifted to him. Her behavior reminded him so much of a caged animal. After yet another failed attempt to wiggle the lock free, he cursed under his breath, drew his cattleman, stepped back, and fired at the lock. He had hoped to avoid using the gun. If they hadn’t alerted a patrol yet, that final gunshot was sure to bring in the cavalry. Stepping closer, Thomas pried the destroyed lock off the doors, discarded it, and slowly opened them. 

That was when the woman, known only to Thomas and Hannah as _Little Rose_\--courtesy of Annie’s endearing nickname for her--lunged. 

As swift as an arrow, using the bars to project herself, Rose launched herself at Thomas with a kick aimed directly at his crotch. Landing her hit, she succeeded in knocking the wind out of him and kicking him out of her way. She booted him hard enough for stars to flash in his vision right on impact. Hannah whirled around from her looting upon hearing Thomas hit the ground, confused. Still standing on him, Rose leaned over and swiped his cattleman, shooting Hannah an evil, distrustful glare, before she took off into Bolger Glade, as fast as a bullet. 

“H-hey!” Hannah shouted, drawing her schofield. “Get back here, you little asshole! We saved you!” 

All she got in response was warning shots. Shots that were not meant to hurt, or to kill, but to alert. Hannah aimed her gun at Rose as she bounded over the trenches and broken down cannons of the battlefield, but decided against it. She needn’t add to the noise signaling the law to their location. Huffing, Hannah holstered her gun and watched as Rose disappeared into the wooded areas of Scarlett Meadows. 

“ _ Sweet as can be _ , my ass… my  _ informant _ is going to get an earful when I get back.” She looked down at Thomas who was curled up on the ground, groaning. Finally he sat up, and was sitting with his legs outstretched and his hands in his lap. “C’mon, that was a lot of noise. We gotta get.”

Nodding, the color gone from his face, Thomas used the doors of the wagon to hoist himself to his feet, whistling for Echo as he did so. The mare came trotting over and he practically threw himself into the saddle. Further up the path was the unmistakable sound of approaching lawmen and Hannah decided now was not the time for banter. Mounting Tano, she motioned for Thomas to follow, and the two galloped away from the scene of the crime. Hannah took one last look out into Bolger Glade, looking for signs of the mysterious Rose, before really digging in and legging it into the wilderness with Thomas.

Together, they disappeared from the meadows and into the swamps, using the twisting, confusing trails to their advantage. After galloping for what felt like twenty miles--though she doubted they traveled so far--Hannah finally reined Tano in, and the war horse slowed to a stop. Thomas ran by, still going as fast as he could, and she flinched as she watched him fail to rein Echo in properly. Once again, he was thrown over the mare’s head, and landed flat on his back, narrowly missing the puddle of stagnant water that had collected near the trail. Not that it mattered that he avoided the puddle; he was now covered head to toe, all down his back, in mud. She snorted at him. 

“Perfect landing.” Hannah said as she looked back. “I think we lost ‘em.”

Her only response was the splats of large dollops of mud being brushed off Thomas’ clothes and body. 

Hannah wanted to laugh at him again, but something on Echo’s sides caught her attention as he hopped back onto her. Jumping down off of Tano, she approached the American Paint with her eyes narrowed, investigating. She glared up at him. “Do you have a functionin’ brain, Thomas Shepherd?”

“What?” He looked down at her, stilling trying to brush some mud off his arms. 

“Look at this!” She gestured angrily at Echo’s sides. “Did you spur her the entire way here?”

Confused, Thomas leaned over to see what she meant. Along Echo’s sides, right where his spurs lay, were twin sets of wounds on either side of her. Lacerations dripped freely with bright red blood, and the mare was foaming at the mouth, panting and coughing, her chest dripping with sweat. Frowning and rather horrified, Thomas slid out of the saddle to investigate the wounds further. When he didn’t say anything, Hannah got angrier. 

“That little girl kick your balls into your throat or you just ignorin’ me?” She spat. 

He shot her a look. 

“How did you manage to spur her that long and that hard and not realize what you were doin’?!” 

For but a moment, he continued to ignore her. Instead, he was running his hand along Echo’s side, using his thumb to test the tenderness of the afflicted area. A flap of skin was hanging off by a mere fleshy thread and he cringed, his heart sinking, as he patted Echo apologetically. “You best quit that hollerin’ or you’ll just draw the law back t’ us.” 

“Don’t you tell me what to do.”

“Quit yellin’ at me, then!” 

“You damn near skin your horse alive and you tell me not to yell at you?! You ran her too hard! She looks like she’s about to pass out!” 

“I didn’t know you could run a horse too hard!”

“How do you not know these things?!”

Once again, Thomas ignored her, and instead of climbing back on he grabbed the reins and began leading Echo down the path. 

“Oh, lost your voice again, did ya?” 

Thomas whirled around, then. “I’m goin’ to the stables. I just didn’t know, alright? I figured they’re hardy. I don’t know much about horses, and that’s all I’m sayin’ to you. You spurred Tano the entire time.”

“I ain’t got knives on my boots.” 

“I didn’t know there was a wrong type of spur.”

“Do you know anything about ‘em, except that you can’t ride ‘em?”

Throwing his hands up, fed up with her sudden attitude, Thomas turned back around and continued leading Echo away. Hannah mounted Tano and waited until he crossed the lopsided platform before she followed behind. However, she did not intend to stay with him. 

“I suggest you learn how to use your words, Shepherd.” Pulling ahead, refusing to give him the chance to respond, she spurred Tano away, and Thomas watched her disappear along the winding path until she was swallowed up by the thick swamp fauna. As annoyed as he was at Hannah for behaving that way, he can’t get angry. There’s simply too much on his mind. 

His sister, for one, is eating away at his subconscious. As he walked, he occasionally glanced over at Saint Denis. It loomed over the water, a foreboding omen in the shape of an urban jungle, a threatening entity that he would soon find himself sitting in the maw of. He despised that city with every fiber of his being, and it all had to do with sister dearest. Even as kids she was spiteful and snobbish, always thinking she was better than her siblings, but moving to Saint Denis seemed to make that side of her that much worse. Every time they met back up, she always regarded Thomas with that condescending glare, that patronizing tone of voice. Her and her idiot husband.

High society life had turned her into an absolute jackass and he knew that showing up at her house, dirty and wearing worn, old clothes, freshly turned into an outlaw, was going to get him nothing. He’d have to spiffy up to talk with her-- _ have to _ . Or she would not give him the time of day.

Thomas was also baffled at how he’d managed to hurt Echo. Growing up in the desert, his father had deemed horses too fragile for the terrain and, thusly, they kept only mules and donkeys. Whilst that bit of trivia stayed in his mind through the years, Thomas really did not know a horse could be run into the ground. Perhaps if it was old and sickly, like the scrawny nag, but a young and healthy mare like Echo? It was not malice on his part, but ignorance, and for Hannah to treat it as anything but made him angry. But quashing that anger was sadness; Echo looked to be in pain, and he stopped walking long enough only to remove the bit from her mouth. It would seem the first thing he was going to spend money on was stabling Echo and paying for whatever services they had that would fix what he’d done.

In the back of his mind, amidst all of this, was the image of the girl they had rescued. Her eyes haunted him; she looked absolutely petrified. But there was a sorrow behind those baby blues that could not be hidden even by the fear that gripped her so. 

* * *

* * *

After arriving back in Saint Denis, Thomas took Echo straight to the stables. While pricey, he had enough on him to cover the costs, and helped the stablehand with removing her saddle and brushing her down. Once they brought in water and feed, Thomas saw himself out, with his last glimpse of Echo being her drinking greedily from a trough. He would do better to take care of her after this, that was for sure. Leaning against the stables outside, he lit up a cigarette and took out his money. He had quite a bit saved up from helping the sheriffs, as well as the backup money he’d snatched from his home. Enough to get a new outfit to visit his sister with and to get spurs that would not harm Echo again. 

Once he finished his cigarette, he made his way to the tailor. Thomas was never that good at dressing himself; he wore what got the job done. A simple shirt, some faded jeans, and a pair of boots was all he ever needed. As he stood with his arms out, letting the tailor size him, he felt foolish. He was desperate to know where Mama Shepherd had gotten to, worried that she may no longer be with them, yet here he was, about to buy a decent suit in order to even get in the door to talk with his sister. With family! Of all the asinine bullshit…

And yet, he did just that. He paid for his clothes and left.

He hated them. The entire suit felt restrictive and flashy, with the vest in particular made him feel like a bulky idiot. For a brief moment, Thomas thought of heading to her house now. He had the clothes, all he needed to do was just get the meeting over with. It was just one question, one simple, easy question;  _ do you know where mama is? _ Just one; just the one fucking question, and he could be on his way. But he felt weighted to the ground. He felt uneasy, unsure, and unsettled--like he always did when he had to come by for a visit. She and her husband always looked at him like he was an insect, a disgusting and lowly creature, a nuisance at worse, that deserves only the underside of a boot.

Checking the time, he decided it’d be best to wait till tomorrow. And with a heavy sigh, a heavier heart, he started looking for a room he could rent. A simple enough task that turned into an obnoxious feat that only fanned the flames of his hatred for the city more. The crowds were thick, the denizens rude, and if one more little snot-nosed cutpurse tried to pickpocket him he was going to start throwing them in the overfilled garbage cans that speckle the sidewalks. Asking for help got him two things; someone trying to haggle five bucks off him for the information or an insult. Stumbling into the uptown bar had been a lifesaver, and he nabbed the one room it had, the price be damned. Like hell he was going to continue walking around this damnable cesspool of a city!

Once in his room, Thomas dropped off his regular clothes and went out onto the balcony to smoke yet again. On principle, he would only smoke when stressed; and this city was arduous. Even out on the balcony he was not spared prying eyes and disturbing sights--a man completely in the nude stood in front of a window in the apartments adjacent to him, a woman was hanging brightly colored unmentionables out on a line with two kids hitting each other with salami sticks beside her, and a couple was sharing a bottle whilst talking inappropriately. Loudly. So, he took himself around the back of the saloon into a much more relaxed courtyard. Faintly, he could still hear yelling, but he didn’t concern himself with it; he was alone and that was enough. 

So he thought. 

As he puffed away on a cigarette, lost in his thoughts, and checking to see how much money he had left, he was completely unaware that he was being watched. So preoccupied was he that Thomas did not even acknowledge her presence until she was right beside him, startling him out of his reverie with a sultry, inviting tone, heavy with a spanish accent. She was quite the looker; her dark, bewitching eyes complemented by her raven locks that spilled out from under a green flat cap, framing her heart shaped face. She was short, and garbed in a green dress that looked far too fancy for work; perhaps it was her Sunday best?

“Hello there, cowboy.” She said, a charming smile playing on her lips as she sauntered up to him. “Mind if I join you?”


	7. Chapter 7

The city never sleeps--even long into the night, one can hear shouting and gambles, the hiss of meat cooking in a pot, the clack of hooves upon the cobblestone. The following morning, after rescuing Rose from the caravan, Hannah found herself laying awake in bed, disturbed by the crushing quiet. Not from Saint Denis, but from the rundown hotel she called home. It was unlike Hannah to be awake at this hour, but she couldn’t fall back asleep after being jolted awake by everyone leaving the hotel at once. Clint had popped his head in to check on her, and they chatted for a short while, but he was in a hurry and left before the clock struck 8 a.m. Two hours later and she was still in bed. Whilst she was relieved to have slept in this bed again the first night, it felt undeniably lonely here. Lonely and sad.

In the past, she would wake up around her usual time and have someone to talk to and goof around with. She would have multiple people debating with her, arguing the best guns, who had the prettiest horse, she could hear ambient discussions and muffled arguments… but now, the hotel was eerily silent. Rooms stood empty and lonesome, picked clean of the former inhabitants belongings so that the surviving Hellcats could persevere. Hannah hadn’t the chance to truly sit down and talk with the remaining gang members, and those that she had spoken to could only spare her ten minutes at the most. Everyone was so busy. 

Cooky told her it was because they were working on paying off everyone’s bounties. After the massacre at Blackwater, Hannah learned that every single one of the remaining Hellcats had nearly thirty dollars added to their bounty. Marie was still the one with the most, sitting pretty on a three thousand bounty that she did not deserve. Annie’s had already been paid off, Hannah learned, meaning that it was Lewis with the smallest bounty of forty bucks. Hannah herself had quite the price on her head, being an escapee from Sisika. 

It made her heart ache that her family was in shambles and now struggled to get by. Any spare money was set to the side to pay off bounties and everyone worked themselves to exhaustion. Last night, Vanessa had returned and boasted about nabbing quite the sum off some rich idiot, but she seemed to have been the only one who lucked out. Vanessa had even invited Hannah to the small Chinese district of the city to eat at the Jade Dragon later in the day to celebrate nabbing such a decent amount. But that wasn’t until later--and Hannah had no idea what to do with herself till then. With a sigh, she slipped into a pair of comfortable pants and her only red plaid shirt and walked out, taking the steps two at a time. Her footsteps echoed in the derelict halls; her only company in this lonesome hotel. 

_ Maybe I can pay Annie a visit a Doyle’s _, Hannah thought as she crossed the foyer. She had scolded Annie the day before for lying about her friend being a ‘gentle soul’, but Annie persisted, maintaining her stance that Rose was a good, kind person. Hannah’s thoughts wandered, then, as she exited the hotel and emerged into the courtyard. What could she do today to help her fellow gang members? Tear down their wanted posters? Help Annie in the bar? Charm listless idiots with Clint for coins and cash? Could she even do much before she had to find Thomas and begin the journey to Tumbleweed? 

Just the thought of going down into the desert made her scowl. She had hoped some of her fellow members would’ve been able to accompany her down into the blistering heat, but it was not to be. They were all far too busy.

Whispering in the courtyard caught her attention and, ever alert, Hannah investigated. It wasn’t uncommon for the homeless or pickpockets to hideaway in the alleys surrounding the hotel. She was surprised to see Lewis and Marie, of all people, sitting next to the well and washing clothes. She couldn’t be more relieved to see the gang’s matriarch and youngest member side by side; she hadn’t seen them together since Blackwater. The sound of her boots announced her presence, and the whispering abruptly stopped as Marie and Lewis turned to acknowledge her. Lewis looked particularly irritated and crossed his arms as Hannah seated herself next to Marie. 

“If it isn’t my favorite redhead,” Marie said, shooting Hannah a playful smile as she dipped her hands into the frothy water, fishing out her jacket and beginning to scrub along a washboard. 

“She’s the only redhead left.” Lewis growled. Hannah glanced at him, but he was looking away.

“Shouldn’t you be out gallivanting with Clint?” Marie continued, ignoring him. “I believe he’s doing his usual routine in the marketplace. Unless it was his turn to tear down bounties…?”

“I’d just mess up his schtick. Prison didn’t exactly help me fine-tune my acting skill.”

“You do plan on doing some work around here whilst you’ve got the chance, I pray?” 

“Of course! I’m just… not entirely sure what I should do.”

“You are playing quite the dangerous game being here when Sisika is a rock’s throw away from the city.” 

Hannah rubbed her forehead, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “You’re telling me…”

“Lewis was just telling me about some Lemoyne Raiders who robbed one of those homesteads on the outskirts of town.” 

Lewis shrugged. “Yes. I was telling you about it, mother.”

She shot him a look. “And I would like you to tell Hannah about it before your break is over.”

Visibly irked, Lewis threw his arms up. “Ain’t no one free to help her.” 

“Marie’s here, ain’t she?” Hannah said. 

“Not for long, my dear.” Marie pulled her jacket out of the water and wrung it tightly. “I’m afraid I must make another trip to Rhodes.”

“You just got back!”

“Well… we’re at a bit of a disadvantage, Hannah. I’m hoping Marvin can give us all the help he can spare.” 

Marvin was a man the Hellcats had a long history with. He dealt in mercenary work, dealing out quality protection for a hefty price. Hannah could never make heads or tails with the man.

“Which isn’t much, so I don’t know why you bother.” Lewis spat, practically snarling. “Alfred wasn’t the best, but at least he was helping us out. And you let Hannah just waltz in and put him down like a rabid fucking dog.”

“Lewis, now isn’t the time to be getting snippy…” 

“Annie and I have to take up extra shifts because of her and you think now isn’t the time to be snippy?” 

“Hey, bub, that jackass left me to die.” Hannah countered.

“Enough, the both of you.” Marie stood, then, and carried her jacket to the clothesline. Hannah followed, but Lewis stayed put. “These times are hard enough without us trying to blame each other.” 

“As you say, mother.” With a disgruntled, defeated sigh, Lewis turned to leave. “I have to get back to my taxi anyway.” 

“Tell Hannah what you heard, first.” 

“No. We still don’t have anyone who can help her.”

“She has someone.”

Hannah cocked her head. “I do?” 

“Yes. Your fellow escapee.” She held up a hand when Hannah opened her mouth. “And before you start; yes, Annie told me you wanted us to watch out for him and that you believe he may be a danger to us. To that, I can finally tell you in person what Annie was too nice to do for me; I do not trust your judgement and that I would like to meet with him at the earliest possible date.”

“Sheesh, stick a knife in me, why don’t cha? It’d hurt less.” Hannah pouted. “I only want everyone to be safe.”

Marie smiled. “I know you mean well. But we can handle a simple farm boy, if push comes to shove.” She patted her sawed-off shotgun that rested in its holster at her hip. “I should be back tomorrow by dinner time. I want to meet him.” She looked over at Lewis. “This is the last time I will ask you. Fill her in on the supplies.” 

Lewis stared, hard, at Marie for a brief moment. His eyes were simply furious, and Hannah wondered if such animosity was meant for Marie or if it was supposed to be directed at her. His dark eyes shifted to the redhead after several heartbeats as he slipped on the worn flat cap he wore when he drove his taxi around. “Heard that a homestead got hit by the Lemoyne Raiders a couple of nights ago. Ain’t the gentle folk that let us stable our horses on their land neither--it’s actually their rivals. Mainly boxes of fruit and meat, but also stockpiles of pelts and ammo. All of it we could use.”

“Ain’t that just dandy. Did you hear where they could be holed up?” Hannah asked, excited to see some more action. 

“Out in the swamps is all I got. The owner of the supplies is paying thirty dollars to whoever brings it back, but Vanessa believes we could earn way more if we keep it for ourselves.” 

“So, that’s what I’m doing, right? Stealing stolen supplies and bringing them back?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Marie said, returning to the fountain. “Leave ‘em up away’s from Doyle’s. Annie will move ‘em when she gets off work.” 

Beaming, Hannah turned to thank Lewis for the information, but he was already disappearing down one of the alleyways. Biting her lip, Hannah watched his taxi pass by the exit, before ultimately deciding to leave it be. She could confront him about his behavior later--hopefully. Marie patted her shoulder as she placed her wide brimmed hat on her head, covering the tight bun she’d wrapped her dreadlocks into. 

“Hop to it, Hannah. Dawdling is a luxury we can’t afford anymore.”

* * *

* * *

Storming off from Thomas was beginning to become a regret for Hannah. At first, she was excited to charge into action, to do something to help the people she called family. But as the hours crept by, she realized she didn't have the smallest clue where to find Thomas in the city. She tried the marketplace, Doyle’s bar, the tailor, she checked the parks, streets, and docks; the only glimmer of hope she had was when she found Echo stabled in the Livery. The stablehands were no help, and with Echo in the process of healing, she doubted Thomas was going to drop by to take her for a ride. 

Irate, both at herself for just leaving him behind yesterday and at him for being so well hidden, she found herself walking down the street that housed the fancier bar, deeply considering heading into the swamps without him. It was her own fault for just riding away in a huff. She had to get those supplies and if she had to do it alone, she would. But she knew better than to ride into a camp of Lemoyne Raiders armed to the teeth, guarding farm supplies. Being left to rot in the muck of the swamps isn’t what she envisioned her funeral being. 

_ Maybe I could swindle a bunch of dynamite off the fence _ , she thought, smoothing down her fiery locks. The humid, sweltering environment was making her hair frizz and stick to her where sweat gathered. It was a nasty, itchy feeling; one of the many things she hated about Saint Denis. _ Just search the swamps for the Raiders, throw a bunch of ‘mite at ‘em and… no, I could damage the goods. Dammit! _

Frustrated, Hannah tossed back her head and ran her hands down her face, groaning loudly--and thank goodness she did. As her hands fell away and she continued to walk with her head thrown back, she _ finally _saw Thomas. He was leaning on the gilded balcony belonging to the uptown bar, his visage pinched by a tight frown and a long, distant look in his eyes as a cigarette sat loosely in his fingers. The cigarette was burning up, the large collection of ash dangling precariously, threatening to fall at any moment. She was ecstatic; now they could go get the stupid supplies! But she was also confused; here, of all places, is where she found him?

“Thomas!” She called, waving up to him. 

He jolted like someone had struck him with a whip. 

“Mind comin’ down?” 

Hannah was rather surprised when he shook his head in response.

She frowned at that. “Why? I got a job for us to do!” 

Even from this distance, Hannah could see the tension in his shoulders and the scowl that formed at her insistence. “Miss Denson, I have quite enough on my mind without further temper tantrums from the likes of you.” 

Her cheeks grew hot. “Now, just a minute there, Shepherd--”

“Matter of fact, how’s about you mosey along and leave me be?” 

“I’d love to, actually, but this is something I need help with and you’re the only one avaliable at the moment.” 

“Tough shit.” With that, he pushed himself off the railing and disappeared out of her sight. She heard a door slam and winced. Her abrasive, defensive tone wasn’t helping the situation and she knew that--after all, their last discussion had been her insulting him for not knowing there were certain models of spurs that could actually damage a horse. 

Grumbling insults under her breath, Hannah jogged towards the front doors of the uptown bar, reconsidered, and instead went around the side and up the back alley stairs. Keeping her pace, Hannah hurried to the front of the wraparound balcony, stopping at the first door on the left. It stood slightly ajar and she knew this was the room he’d disappeared into--though she didn’t need the door to be open to see that. The doors onto the balcony were more window than wood.

Hannah rapped on the sliver of wood between the glass rapidly, making the door shudder. She saw Thomas glance back at her from the bedside table, but he didn’t hurry over to let her in. She also noticed, as she went to knock--harder this time--the suit that was hung up on the wall. “Don’t ignore me. I really could use your help on this.” 

When he didn’t say anything, she went on. “I know you can hear me! The door is open! Is this really because of what I said the other day? Don’t make me beg.” 

Continued silence.

Growling, Hannah threw up her arms. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I know it was rude and mean and nasty of me to call you stupid. But I saw the blood and the wound and just got mad, alright? Ain’t got the best hold on my temper. I can’t do this alone and I would really,_ really_ appreciate it if you would help me. We ain’t got long here and I’d like to help people as much as I can ‘fore we gotta start headin’ to Tumbleweed. Specifically, I’d like to help people who will pay us so that we can actually get there without dyin’ in the desert.” 

“I gave you my answer, Miss Denson.” Thomas replied as he slammed the drawer he was digging in shut, as if to accentuate his point. 

“You’re just gonna stay mad at me the rest of the time we’re here, really?” 

“Even if I wanted to help you, I can’t, because Echo needs more time in the stables. And even then, if she was healed up, I don’t have the money right now to pay to get her out.” 

“Just ride on Tano with me! We’re just going to the swamps!” Hannah gestured to the suit. “Spend it all on that?” 

“I told you no. And no, I didn’t.”

“I’m beggin’ ya. Please? It’s an emergency!” 

“No.”

Hannah bit her lip in frustration and, in her desperation, blurted out; “I heard a woman crying in the swamps!” 

That seemed to get his attention. Crabby as he was, his visage softened at the lie Hannah just spat, and she immediately felt guilty at how concerned he looked. “You did?”

“I--I--uh, well…” 

“Do suppose it could be the one your informant had us breakout?” 

“Uh… well… I mean, it could be? You see, I uh… was riding around out there near the orchards and happened to hear a woman screaming and crying, kicking up a real fuss, y’know? And I also heard men--lots of men--and assumed the worst, mm-hmm. She might, uh, still be… alive… if we hurry?” She backed up as he approached the door and pushed it open. 

“Let’s get goin’.” 

* * *

* * *

With plenty of daylight to burn, the two set out on their mission as fast as Tano could gallop. The warhorse carried the two swiftly into the swamps, the sound of her hooves pounding upon the moist ground was the only thing keeping Hannah from falling too deeply into her own mind. It was a small lie, nothing too big, but she was dragging Thomas into the swamps, towards a violent gang, all for a woman who didn’t exist. She convinced herself it was alright; after all, he would be saving a woman, in a manner of speaking. Several, in fact. 

Just not one from the unforgiving clutches of the Lemoyne Raiders. 

Finding the hideout was easy; the Raiders were not the brightest bunch. They could be heard guffawing from the road, drinking themselves into a stupor, celebrating God knows what. Hopping off Tano, Hannah and Thomas crept through the thick bustles of milkweed, musk sedge, and alligator weed in order to get a good view of the house. It was a rickety, seedy home, with rotted wood growing weeds and moss and bits and pieces of the side falling away. 

Still in the muck they continued along until Hannah saw the wagon. The supplies were still in it! From the looks of the house, she didn’t blame them for keeping the goods in the wagon and just covering it with a tarp. 

“Do you see the woman?” Thomas asked. “Do we have the right place? I don’t hear nothin’... reckon we got here too late…?” 

Feeling the sweat that drenched her turn to ice, Hannah fumbled for the binoculars at her hip and quickly brought them to her eyes, pretending to search for the nonexistent damsel in distress. “Uh… nope! But she could just be… knocked out, y’know?”

“Or dead…”

“Buck up, make ‘em pay if she is!” Hannah put the binoculars away and drew her Evans. That wagon looked loaded and she was eager to get it parked behind Doyle’s. “Let’s light ‘em up.”

Nodding solemnly, not taking his eyes off the house, Thomas pulled his Carbine off his back. Hannah scrunched her nose at it. _ Wasn’t he supposed to find his guns in the city? What’s he still doing with that useless thing? _

Before she could ask, Thomas fired the first shot, startling her into action. Standing, Hannah darted behind a cypress tree, checked her chamber, and then poked her head out to fire away. Gunfire and shouting filled the swamps, sending swarms of spoonbills and herons into the sky and alligators into the water. The raiders that were unfortunate enough to be inebriated when Hannah and Thomas rolled up were the first to die, falling to the ground following the spray of blood from their wounds before they even knew what was happening. The guards, more alert, were proving to be a bigger hassle, and dove behind cover. 

Ever the persistent one, Hannah moved up as Thomas offered rapid cover fire, drawing the attention of the remaining raiders. She heard the horses still hitched to the wagon whinny in surprise as she fired close to where they were, and whirled around, watching as they reared and bucked, roaring and yanking at their tethers. Before she could begin to shush and quiet them, the sprinter bar groaned against the abuse, and she watched with a sinking heart as one of the two shires managed to free itself. It galloped madly away, dragging half of the broken sprinter bar with it, and Hannah cursed under her breath as she buried herself between two barrels, reloading. Hopefully the one would be strong enough to take the supplies home. 

Hearing Thomas cry out made Hannah’s adrenaline kick in harder and she pivoted back towards the raiders, firing off several shots. Some landed, others didn’t, but she was frantic to get this over with before the remaining shire managed to pull itself free. Her bullets weren’t lethal, but they were enough to make the raiders stumble and lose ground, and she used that brief moment to hit back even harder by pulling her schofields out and running in, making short work of the injured and disoriented group. It was far easier than she anticipated--if this group had been any bigger, than maybe they would’ve been a challenge. But with a final resounding shot, Hannah felled the last Lemoyne Raider callously. Her barrel was still smoking when Thomas ran up behind her. 

“Did you find her?” 

“Find who?” Hannah asked, returning her schofields. Then, she remembered. “Oh, uh--n-no. I didn’t. I’ll uh… I’ll search around out here, alright? You check the hou--God’s sake, what happened to your arm!?”

Blood was pouring down Thomas’ forearm, just under where his sleeves were rolled up. He glanced down at it and shook it vainly, as if he expected the blood to just fly off. Shouldering his carbine, Thomas used his now free hand to wipe the blood away, and Hannah watched it stain his arm as the worst of it was pushed away. “Got nicked by a bullet, nothin’ serious.”

Hannah whistled for Tano. “Lucky for you, I think I have some bandages still in my saddlebag.” 

“It can wait.” Thomas replied, shaking his hand to flick the blood off his glove. He pulled his carbine back off his shoulder. Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but figured it best to let him go. She could go investigate the wagon while he was inside, as well as loot the bodies of the Raiders. They were a ruthless, idiotic bunch, and she hoped that they had some decent treasures on them. 

Inside, Thomas found nothing but a pool of blood on the floor. His heart sank as he crouched down to investigate it, testing its freshness, before standing back up and following the splattering, thick trail. Out on the back porch, the blood stopped on the railing; not that he had time to let his mind come up with violent scenarios about what happened. A few feet away, laying in the thick mud and scum, sat a Raider, holding his stomach and gurgling, convulsing. The blood was his. 

The man could barely speak and his eyes were wide, wild, bugging out of his skull as he grasped his belly and writhed in the mud. Blood poured from his mouth, dying his teeth red, and mud caked the side of his face that was half buried in the swampland. The sounds were awful; like a pot bubbling over on the fire and a sick old dog coughing it’s last breath, combined into a symphony of death. Thomas stood frozen, watching, as the man struggled to hang onto life for as long as he could. A voice told him to act, to put the poor bastard out of his misery--but still, he just stood and watched. The man looked at him, his eyes bloodshot, before he finally went limp. Faintly, Thomas could still hear the blood rushing out of his wound.

Thomas was certainly no stranger to death--but that was the first time he’d ever witness someone suffer a _ gut shot _. The revulsion hit him hard, a sick, twisted version of remorse, as if a Lemoyne Raider--of all things!--deserved pity, yet here he was, feeling sad for the man now dead in the thick muck of the swamp. He deserved his fate, so many do, but to actually witness the bleedout put Thomas into a dismal mood.

Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, Thomas sadly slipped the carbine back onto his shoulder and exited the house, meeting back up with Hannah out front. 

A part of him was glad to see the man die; he was a violent gang member after all. Another mocked him for being too frightened to end the bastard’s misery. He wiped his arm again without looking at it as he approached Hannah. 

“Find her?” He asked. Hannah tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear as she shook her head.

“Nope. But I did… um… find some dainty little tracks disappearing into the swamps. She uh… musta got away in the commotion we started.”

“I didn’t see her?” He protested, turning back to the house. 

“Well, me neither. But at least she ain’t, uh, y’know. With them no more?” She motioned for him to follow and whistled for her horse. “Anyways, ain’t like we’re far from the city. Or Lagras for that matter. She’ll be okay.”

“If you say so.”

Hannah patted Tano in greeting and sidled up along her side, unbuckling her saddlebag as she continued. “Besides, we did what we came here to do. And we got supplies out of it! How’s about you ride with me and we can take these somewhere where they’ll get returned to the owner.”

“The police station?”

“Not quite. Know a gal who can do it better and faster than the law.” She held out bandages and a canteen towards him. “You can clean up that cut on the way, too.”

* * *

* * *

The ride was slow and bumpy and above all else, quiet. Hannah tried multiple times to start a conversation with Thomas, but he seemed lost in thought and barely acknowledged her questions and when he did, the responses were curt and simple. It wasn’t the crabbiness from the morning, but something sadder. Hannah briefly wondered if he was imagining the fake woman getting ripped apart by alligators and guilt silenced her the rest of the way. The lone shire strained to pull the heavy wagon by itself, but slowly and surely, they finally arrived behind Doyle’s Tavern. Hannah had never been happier to touch down in the slick filth of the slums. She spun around to face Thomas who hopped off the wagon at the same time she did, only to find him wandering off already. 

“Hey, where ya goin’?” Hannah asked, following after. “Don’t mope about that woman, bud. Ain’t no one gonna get lost in the swamps when the hideout--if you wanna call it that--was right beside the road!”

He shrugged. 

“You’ve been in a God awful mood all day, what is your problem? I already apologized for insulting you!”

“I’d just prefer to be alone right now, Miss Denson.”

Hannah stopped following him. He sounded defeated. Now the guilt was really beginning to eat at her. “I respect that but… hey, you said you didn’t have the money to retrieve Echo from the stables. I have a lunch date with my friend, if you wanna come along. Ever had Chinese food?” She jogged after him. “You can come eat with us and then be alone.” 

“Awful kind of you but--”

“We can also go get you a hat. A big ol’ hat to hide your face. I don’t mean to insult you but you’ve got to be more careful with your appearance; you still have wanted posters all over the place. Whaddya say? Dinner and then hat shopping?”

“I don’t have money--”

“Is that what’s got you all bothered? My darling friend might be able to help ya out, if you ask nicely.” 

“Miss Denson--”

“I won’t force you to go, Thomas, but if you ain’t got money on ya, than you can’t eat, and you can’t get Echo out of the stable. You just gonna go sit in that dark and lonely room for the rest of the day?”

He eyed her anxiously, studying her face, as if expecting this all to be a half-hearted offer. Ultimately, he yielded to her request, and nodded with a slight swing of his arms. _ You win. _

“Let’s go, then! If you’ve never had Chinese food, you’re gonna love it. They have this one dish…”


	8. Chapter 8

Hannah and Thomas arrived at the Jade Dragon just after the lunch rush. Droves of people crowded the streets just outside the doors of the restaurant, conversing and laughing with each other, each one content with their bellies full. Hannah shoved her way past the worst of them that were too oblivious to realize they were being roadblocks, with Thomas following closely in tow. Pushing open the bright red doors eagerly, they were both overwhelmed by the rich, blended smells of ginger, shallots, garlic, and sesame oil, and a variety of other delectables. Hannah scanned the crowded restaurant and finally spotted Vanessa upfront, holding a drink that was, without a doubt, whiskey. 

She turned to Thomas. “Wait here. I’m going to make sure she’s alright with you joining us.” 

“Miss Denson if it’s--”

“ _ Hannah _ , Thomas, my name is  _ Hannah _ . And it won’t be a problem, I just want to make sure.”

Thomas rubbed nervously at his damaged arm. “I can just leave--”

“Knock it off. I invited you and Vanessa’s real friendly! I’ll be back.”

With that, Hannah scurried over to the aforementioned, dodging patrons, decorations, and workers alike. Vanessa turned away from the man she was speaking to as she took a deep drink of her whiskey and noticed Hannah as she got closer. “ _ Flaquita, pensé que te habías olvidado de mí. _ ”

“ _ ¡No puede ser! _ ” Hannah replied, punching Vanessa’s arm lightly. “I told you to stop calling me that.” 

“Aw, but it is my favorite endearment for my favorite bag of bones.” Vanessa shot back, slapping Hannah’s shoulder. “Your Spanish is getting weak. Also, you’re late. I was just about to leave and cry in my room for being stood up by Hannah Denson herself.” 

“You wouldn’t be the first. And I’m sorry I’m so late, but I had something come up. Lewis gave me some details on stolen supplies so of course I had to go retrieve them.” 

“Ah, the same one I heard about before I left this morning?”

“The very same.”

“You work fast. Well! Let’s grab the table these kind folks let me save this whole time and chow down.” 

“Wait.” 

“I’ve been waiting almost two hours now!” 

“Can someone join us?” Hannah groaned when Vanessa made the stupid  _ ‘oh yeah?’  _ face she always made. “And before you start; no. He’s just been real sad all day and I figure a guy like him ain’t ever tried food like this. If it ain’t a hassle…”

“You brought me a man? Hannah, you  _ shouldn’t _ have.”

“Can you please not act that way? Listen, this is the same man I told Annie to tell everyone to stay away from, but since Marie has demanded to meet with him anyway, might as well get y'all acquainted with him.” 

“I’m trembling with excitement.” Vanessa downed another chug of her drink. “Besides, with that load I got off the rich idiot from before, I’d pay for the whole gang to come eat. Bring him on over!”

Hannah rolled her eyes as Vanessa sauntered away. She watched her go long enough to see where their table was before she went back over to Thomas--who looked as uncomfortable as a rabbit in a snake pit. Hannah motioned for him to follow and like an obedient dog, he trailed after her. She wasn’t sure how a grown man managed to look like a frightened child and a kicked puppy at the same time, but that was exactly the look on Thomas’ face and the slump of his shoulders as they weaved in and out of the busybodies of the restaurant. Their table was at the back of the building, beside the bar on the furthest booth. Hannah whirled around and plopped beside Vanessa, beaming proudly up at Thomas.

“Thomas Shepherd, I’d like you to meet Vane--”

“ _ ¡Ay, mierda! _ ”

“ ** _You_ ** .”

Hannah’s smile faded. “Wait, wha--”

Vanessa, now trapped in the booth, scooted against the wall, flashing Thomas an innocent smile. “ _ ¿Quién, yo? _ ”

“Do you know her?” Thomas snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at Vanessa. “This… this thief?!”

“Thief? H-hold on there, Shepherd, she ain’t no thief--” 

“Bullshit.”

“Honest, she’s not--”

“Do you know her?!”

“Yes! She’s my… my uh…”  _ Think, Hannah. “ _ My roommate.”

“She robbed me last night!” 

“What?” Hannah looked at her. It was then that Hannah remembered the suit hanging up in Thomas’ room. Suddenly, the holes in Vanessa’s story were filled. Suddenly, the nameless rich idiot that she couldn’t remember the face of was instead Hannah’s fellow Sisika escapee, distraught and out of his element, turned easy target for Vanessa’s cunning ways. “Vanessa? Excuse me?” 

Vanessa was flushed bright red. For once in her life, she had nothing to say. And for once since they came to the city, Thomas looked something other than sad or melancholy. Matter of fact, he looked ready to spit fire.

“I… I uh…” Hannah elbowed Vanessa. “She’ll give it back.”

“Unless she already spent it all.” Thomas barked. Several workers and patrons were looking over at them. Hannah patted the table across from her. 

“Sit, Thomas, please. She’ll give it back.”

Begrudgingly, Thomas obliged and lowered himself into the adjacent booth, never removing his furious gaze from Vanessa as he did so. Vanessa kept her head down, her thick curls concealing her face as she thumbed the pouch of money under the table. Hannah could feel the embarrassment coming from Vanessa in thick droves. Suddenly the confident, flirtatious jokester was akin to a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Just as Hannah opened her mouth to tell Vanessa to give it back, a woman came over. 

“Welcome to the Jade Dragon,” She said, her English pushing through a thick Chinese dialect. “Today the special is  _ Kan Shao Ming Hsia _ \--”

“We’ll all have that, thank you.” Hannah said, flashing her best smile at the hostess. She couldn’t remember what that dish was, but she had a bigger problem to deal with. Thomas looked like he could flip the table and take back what was rightfully his any second. As soon as the worker was out of earshot, Hannah turned her attention back to him. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. She stole  _ your  _ money?”

He nodded. Vanessa squeaked in dismay. 

“B-but how…?” 

“Came at me in the evening, offering companionship. Real touchy. Real  _ invasive _ .” He emphasized the word with a hard rap of his knuckles on the table. “Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Hannah looked at Vanessa. 

“I told her multiple times I just wanted to be alone. When she left, I thought she finally got the message, till I went back to my room and realized she’d robbed me blind.” 

“Hannah,” Vanessa whispered. “ _ No me hagas devolvermelo. ¡Es tanto dinero que nos vendría bien! _ ”

“ _ Tenemos que hacerlo, ¿estás loco? _ ” Hannah said, exasperated. 

“ _ Hay casi trescientos dólares aquí! _ ”

“ _ ¿Realmente? Espera, no. No importa. Devuélveselo antes de que te mate _ .”

Thomas sneered, completely lost. He didn’t know Hannah was fluent in Spanish--though he supposed there was plenty he didn’t know about her; such as she seemed perfectly fine with being friends with a seductive thief. The two went back and forth for a moment longer before he crossed his arms haughtily. 

“My  _ money _ , ladies.”

After several scant moments, Vanessa meekly placed the pouch on the table, still refusing to make eye contact. Hannah watched as she curled in on herself, her face a deep red, as Thomas picked up his money. As he opened it to count what was left, Vanessa sipped on her whiskey again just as their food was brought out. The hostess set their plates down on one end of the table, wished them a good day, and hurried off again to bring them some drinks. Hannah cleared her throat, hoping to dispel the awkward tension just as Thomas pocketed his money. 

“Is that whiskey the only thing you bought?” He growled, cutting Hannah off. 

Vanessa, who had spent about ten dollars on a sackville diamond ring as well, kept her hands under the table. “Yessir.” 

He huffed. Hannah couldn’t get it out of her mind that he looked like a bull ready to charge and the flaring nostrils every time he breathed didn’t help. She cleared her throat once again, pushed a plate towards each of them, and picked up her fork.

“Thomas, this is Vanessa Flores. Vanessa, this is Thomas Shepherd. Figure we can put this behind us and start over?” She stabbed one of the prawns and pushed it around her plate, coating it in the chili sauce. “This is all just a big misunderstanding that we can overcome, don’t you think?”

“Robbery is a misunderstanding now?” Thomas shot back, still glaring at Vanessa, who did her best to ignore him and began eating one of the prawns as well. He didn't seem too impressed by it.

“It’s uh… well, it’s difficult, you see. We’re both from one of those… uh… reform boarding schools. For troubled youths... Never really left it. Vanessa here still gets that urge to steal.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hannah elbowed Vanessa, who perked up and added. “Oh, yeah, definitely. Meant no harm by it. I was gonna hunt you down and bring it back after here, honest. Guess God had different plans.”

“Suppose he did.” 

Silence fell between them and the three ate quietly. 

“So…” Hannah gestured vaguely. “I noticed you still have your carbine. Thought you said your guns might be in the city?”

“Ain’t had the chance to go see.” He replied flatly, tapping a disinterested fork on one of his prawns. 

“Vanessa knows some weapons smugglers if you end up being unable to find them.”

“City swindlin’, sounds great.” 

Hannah thinned her lips at that and looked over at Vanessa who, understandably, kept quiet. Despite Hannah’s multiple attempts to get the two talking, Thomas was either not having it or shutting down every starter with angry, brisk responses. He was also the first one done, having only ate one of the several prawns on his plate, thanked Hannah sharply for the invite, and stormed away. Vanessa waited until the door shut behind him to slam her head on the table.

“Rich idiot, huh?” Hannah remarked sourly, biting into a plump prawn rather barbarically. Vanessa sneered at her. “Maybe you should start remembering the faces of the men you rob; this whole thing could have been avoided if I knew you stole from Thomas fucking Shepherd!” 

“Hop off it, will ya?” Vanessa groaned, removing her hat. “I invited you here for a reason and it wasn’t to get lectured.”

“Hold up--I’m going to have to pay for this, ain’t I?” 

“I mean, you made me give back the money I was going to use and let him just scurry off with it, so…” 

“I’m going to run you over with my horse, Flores.” 

“At this point I’d welcome it, Denson!” Vanessa threw her arms up. “Just cover the bill, alright? I’ve suffered enough embarrassment for today, don’t you think?!”

“Naw, I think he should’ve stayed longer. I cannot believe you.”

“Please,  _ don’t. _ ”

“What did you want to tell me?”

“You done picking on me?”

“Never. Tell me?”

Vanessa finished off two more prawns before continuing. “During the Blackwater mess, lots of us got scattered. Most returned to Saint Denis, but others are still missing.” 

“You told me this, yes.”

“Did I also tell you that I’ve been spending my free time trying to track the missing ones down?” 

“A little.” Hannah wiped her chin. “Why? Did you find someone?” 

“Well…” At that, Vanessa reached into the depths of her skirt and pulled out a small notebook. Hannah watched as she flipped it open and her heart sank upon seeing some familiar names crossed out with ‘x’s. “I’ve found the relative of one. Remember Charlie?”

“Yeah…”

“Charlie was one of the first to die when the shooting started. He was always sending money to his sister and I’ve been worried about her all these months. I know where she is, but I can’t go alone. Will you ride with me?”

“To check up on--shit what was her name? Nina? Noelle?” She paused. “No, Natalie? I don’t know, Vanessa…”

“Her name’s Nancy. Charlie was her only source of income, Hannah. I’m worried about her, especially if my informant was right, than I’m extremely scared for her life.”

“Where is she?”

“Thieves Landing.”

* * *

* * *

The sun was beginning to set just as Hannah and Vanessa arrived at the edge Thieves Landing. Anxiety had gnawed at Hannah the entire way, making her irate and fiery as ever. Though she agreed to come with Vanessa, everyone knew what Thieves Landing was; a cesspit of violence and debauchery. The infamous Del Lobos called it their home, and they weren’t too kind to outsiders. Lawmen had attempted to raid the camp multiple times and only found themselves pigs to the slaughter. The Del Lobos were ruthless and they prided themselves on that. Hannah gripped her reins tightly and Tano, sensing Hannah’s nervous energy, pinned her ears against her head and shuffled away from the bridge that breached the small river. Hannah fruitlessly tried to calm her agitated mare. 

“You still want to do this?” Vanessa asked. “You can hang back.”

“It’s just the two of us, Vanessa. Is this such a good idea?”

“Maybe not. But stay close. Keep Tano unhitched; we may need to run.” 

“You sure Reginald can get you away fast enough?” Hannah gestured to Vanessa’s chestnut pinto. “He ain’t the smartest…”

“Don’t you worry about Regi or me. If shit happens, you get yourself out.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, Flores.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Swallowing thickly, Hannah followed after Vanessa and the two entered the settlement. Immediately, as they crossed the second bridge, they were met with distrustful leers and sneering men. Many of them remained idle but watchful, making no move to interfere, but Hannah still felt intensely uncomfortable. Several catcalled, whistling suggestively, and calling the pair everything between _ princesa _ to  _ cabrona _ , in a dialect that wasn’t similar to Vanessa’s at all. Hannah strained to understand them, but their accents were much thicker than Vanessa’s, and many of the words were unfamiliar to her. As well as she knew spanish, she wasn’t completely fluent in it. 

Keeping her head high and her hand on her holster, Hannah followed Vanessa into the heart of the pit. Several men had their interest piqued and were gathering nearby, whispering and gesturing at the two, and it made Hannah highly uncomfortable. Part of her wishes they had hunted Thomas down and forced him to come; maybe he could have helped keep back the leering eyes. Vanessa seemed undeterred as she waltzed right up to the man running the fence. Hannah hung back, watching the cluster of men warily. 

“ _ Tengo una pregunta para ti _ .” Vanessa said. “ _ ¿Conoces a una mujer llamada Nancy? _ ”

“ _ ¿Quién quiere saberlo? _ ” The man responded, sucking deeply on his cigarette.

Vanessa rested a hand on her chest. “Vanessa Florez,” She gestured to Hannah. “Hannah Denson. Old friends, who would just like to know if she’s alright.”

Hannah listened intently, but her attention was dragged away from Vanessa and the fence man as a woman among the hordes of men caught her eyes. She was quite tall, towering over Hannah and even some of the men in the settlement, and had her face covered by a bandana. Goggles, akin to the kind a balloon rider wears, sat upon her crown of brown locks. Her eyes were dark and piercing like a cobra’s; even from this distance, Hannah could feel the danger radiating off this woman. She was twirling a knife between her fingers, and though Hannah couldn’t see her mouth, something told her that this woman was grinning at her. Her worry worsened. 

Just as she turned, Vanessa bumped into her and quickly put her hands on her shoulders, spinning Hannah around and ushering her towards a shack across from the fence. Keeping up the pace, and close to Vanessa, Hannah walked with her to the crumbling building as the horde of Del Lobo’s looked on. As they walked, they passed by the cluster of gang members that had caught Hannah’s eye, and she was unnerved hearing the masked woman speak.

“ _ No deberías estar aquí, chicas. _ ” She rasped. Her voice dripped with malice and it made Hannah’s skin crawl. Her eyes, soulless and black, followed the pair as they walked across the small road.

Hannah grabbed Vanessa’s arm. “Are we safe?” She whispered. 

“The fence man is a good guy. They won’t attack if we don’t give them a reason to. Ease up, Denson, or they’ll all jump us.” Vanessa warned, slapping her hand away. “Nancy is here. Hasn’t been good for her since Charlie bit the dust, from what he had to say.”

“Do you think she’ll come with us?” Hannah asked.

“One way to find out.”

As they crossed the yard of the small house and rounded the corner of the shack, the pair was met with a sorry sight. There, scrubbing away at a washboard, garbed in a tattered dress and shredded poncho, was Charlie’s sister. Whilst she had never gotten to know the Hellcats personally, they all knew about her, and just how much she meant to Charlie. Born with a gimp leg, Nancy relied heavily on her brother’s support. After he died, she fell off the map, and Vanessa hoped to bring her back with them. At least with the Hellcats she would be safe. But what was she doing here?

Nancy looked up at them when Hannah tapped her knuckles on the wooden post. She looked ragged and worn, with sunken cheeks and dark circles under eyes. Her knuckles were raw and her skin was weathered, blistered from the arid climate and the unforgiving sun. She wiped her wet hands on her dress and stared at Vanessa and Hannah expectantly. 

“Can I help you?” She muttered, sounding mousy. 

“Hi…” Hannah started. “Do you know who we are?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I don’t suppose so… uh, well, I’m Hannah, and this is Vanessa. We knew your brother--ran in the same gang with him.”

Nancy frowned.

Vanessa kneeled down in the doorway. “We don’t want to take up too much of your time but it’s been so long since he died, and when I got word you were spotted here, I came as quickly as I could.”

“Why?”

“Well… I knew how much you meant to your brother. And hearing about where you were I just… I was extremely worried. The Del Lobos aren’t known for their hospitality.” 

“They’ve treated me fine. I do the laundry and cooking and they protect me; seems fair enough.” Her voice suddenly turned cold. “More than I can say about you Hellcats.”

“Excuse me?”

“My brother had a life laid out for him. He was going to be a surgeon! He promised me he’d find a way to fix my leg! But instead, he got caught up with you lot! Abandoned everything to run with a bunch of violent vagabonds with no future, no purpose, and no rules! I begged him so, so many times to just leave y’all in the dust where you belonged and still he ran with ya.” 

“That’s a pretty harsh assumption…”

“Ain’t an assumption, miss.” Nancy snarled. “Everyone heard about what happened in Blackwater.”

“Now, just a minute--” Hannah started.

“Just, go away. I don’t care what your reasons were for shooting up the town because regardless of who, what, or why; it was running with the Hellcats that put my brother in the ground.”

“Surely you have somewhere better to go than here?” Vanessa pleaded, interjecting before Hannah could get another word in. “I can’t just walk away and leave you here.”

“The Del Lobos have protected me and known me longer than any of you. None of your names ring a bell and whatever kindness you believe you’re doing; don’t. It’s far too late for any of that.”

“Nancy…”

“ _ Go _ .”

“That man told us it hasn’t been good for you here--”

“Shows what he knows, eh? I won’t ask you again. Get lost.”

Vanessa eyed her for a moment longer before releasing a defeated sigh. Climbing to her feet, Vanessa ushered Hannah away with a brisk shove, and the two made their way--cautiously--back to their horses. Wordlessly, the pair climbed onto their mounts and bolted out of Thieves Landing, leaving the settlement, and Nancy, behind in the dust. In silence they rode at a full gallop all the way to Riggs Station. It wasn’t until they were seated upon a Saint Denis bound train that Vanessa pulled out her notebook and scribbled a star beside Nancy’s name.

“That sucked.” She said. Hannah nodded in agreement. 

* * *

* * *

They arrived in Saint Denis longer after the sun had set. Hannah was glad to have found Charlie’s sister alive, but there was a bitter taste in her mouth. The insult of being deemed worse than Del Lobos cut deep, and it made Hannah angry; Nancy didn’t even give them a chance to explain themselves. She bought into the lies the papers printed and that was that, and Hannah was just supposed to accept it. The whole time on the train she had let it fester, and as her feet touched down on solid ground again, she had the urge to break something. 

“Walk me home?” Vanessa asked, leering fearfully out into the glimmering city. It was the sad undertone in her friend’s usually upbeat voice that curbed Hannah’s anger just a bit longer. 

“Of course.” Hannah replied. 

Vanessa sighed as they walked, side by side, down Main Street towards the grocery store. Hannah could tell she was anxious, and made a point to keep her hand on her schofield. “Y’know, Marie told me to leave her be, back when I started this hunt for our missing members.”

“Did she?”

Vanessa nodded. “She said, they know where we live. They’ll come back when they’re ready. But that wasn’t enough for me, y’know? The ones not confirmed dead, I had to know they were alright. I know Nancy was never with us, but Charlie loved her so much, and I thought…”

“Thought she’d be less of a bitch?” Hannah said bluntly. Vanessa shook her head at that.

“I wouldn’t call her that. She wasn’t there and none of us had the full story up until you waltzed through the doors a few weeks ago.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “I just thought we could pick up where Charlie left off. I hope she meant what she said about them treating her right. We might have better luck with the next one. Though, I suppose that will have to wait.”

“You already know where another is?”

“I do. But like I said, we’ve been too busy to really go and find them. And you know me; I prefer to work in daylight.” 

It sounded like a joke, but it fell flat, and they walked the rest of the way in silence. As soon as the familiar old hotel was in sight, Vanessa broke into a jog, quickly ducking into the archway and making a beeline for her room. Hannah didn’t blame her for her desperation; Vanessa was not a fan of the dark, but it was specifically city nights that made her wary, and with all the ruthless dregs and scum that prey on people in the night, Hannah knew not to keep her out much longer. Hannah, however, felt confident, and wanted to enjoy the crisp, cool air a moment longer before retiring to bed. 

“You two have fun without me?” Came Clint’s sing-song voice, and Hannah rolled her eyes, immediately looking up at the guard post. 

“You creepin’ on two women just enjoying a night stroll?” She shot back, crossing her arms. 

“Naturally.” He leaned on the balcony, flashing her a shit-eating grin. “You busy?” 

“Do I look busy?” 

“You look like shit.”

“Well, I’m about to get busy kicking your ass.” 

Clint chuckled, then motioned for her to join him. “Don’t be that way. You were gone for so long I didn’t get a chance to see you after this morning. I have something for you.”

Hannah hesitated. “I don’t know, Clint. It’s been an awful long day--”

“I get it. You hate me and want me dead.” He fell dramatically into his seat. “My best friend turned heartless criminal in the walls of the Sisika Penitentiary--” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

With that, Hannah made her way up to the balcony. Clint was wearing his weathered union suit and a dark pair of padded saddle pants. Were it not for his pale, pallid skin and sunshine locks, he would have blended perfectly into the shadows cast by the dim, flickering streetlight. When she got close enough, he stood back up and gestured to her neck. “Riddle me this; did they take your necklace at Sisika?”

Hannah frowned and rubbed at her collarbone. After six months with it off, she’d forgotten all about it. “That’s not a riddle--but, yeah. I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. After blowing Alfred’s brains all over the walls, the first thing I thought to myself was; Oh, my God, they took Hannah’s necklace! Those sick bastards!” 

“I see your humor hasn’t gotten better.”

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning a wound. “You’re so, so cruel, Hannah--”

“Clint, can you hurry it up? I’d like to rest after today.”

His smile faded. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m just tired.”

“Why are you tired though?”

“Been through the wringer today, that’s all.” 

Clint ran his hands along his rifle. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Hannah thinned her lips and crossed her arms again. 

“C’mon. It might make you feel better before bed?”

Though apprehensive, Hannah relented, and leaned against the banister across from Clint, keeping her arms crossed. “It’s really just a bunch of bullshit.”

“My favorite topic!”

“I lied to someone today, to get him to come help me with that supply run in the swamps. It’s been bugging me for awhile, especially since Vanessa also robbed him yesterday.” 

“The rich idiot?” 

“Yeah. Ain’t a rich idiot at all; it’s that guy Mrs. LeClerk broke out with me.”

Clint winced and made a hissing sound.

“Yeah. He ain’t all bad, I suppose--he’s hard to read. But I told him I heard a woman crying and screaming in the swamps to get him to go with me, since he was mad at me for being honest about how he treated his horse.”

“Were you being honest or being an asshole?” 

She kicked at him playfully. “Nevermind that. Anyway, he was sad, and I felt bad, and invited him to go eat with Vanessa and me. Shoulda seen the look on her face when she saw him. But that’s not even the worst part--”

“There’s more? Please tell me he didn’t slap her.”

“No, but he looked ready to rip her head off and hand feed it to a gator. All that ain’t even the worst of it! Do you remember Charlie’s sister?” 

Clint’s brows furrowed.

“Vanessa and I went to visit her to see if she needed help. She’s holed up in Thieves Landing with the Del Lobo’s of all things! And she called us all sorts of degrading names and blames us for Charlie’s death!” Her arms uncrossed, then, as Hannah leaned back on the banister. “She didn’t want our help, but she looked so beaten and tired.”

“Can’t do much for those that don’t want help, Hannah.” 

“She didn’t even consider the offer!”

“Maybe the Del Lobos are keeping her safe better than we can? We are down on our luck, y’know.”

“They’re Del Lobos, Clint. They’re probably beating and raping her for the hell of it.” 

He leaned over and patted her hand, then. “Hey, knock that off. You can’t think like that--would she really stay if that was what she was dealing with?” 

“I don’t know--”

“She thinks we’re the bad guys, right? Clearly, she sees some humanity in them.”

“You weren’t there.”

“And you’re not there all the time. Have a bit of optimism, huh?” 

Hannah scrunched her nose. 

“As for the lie? Why lie to him? Come clean, I doubt he’ll mind.” 

“Your endless optimism is disgusting. I don’t know Thomas well enough to just tell him the truth. Not now, anyway. You didn’t see how fightin’ mad he was over Vanessa robbing him.”

“Lying and robbery aren’t comparable.” 

“Quit speaking sense before I throw you off this balcony. I know they’re not, but he’s got enough going on without me adding to it.” She rubbed her head. “I think he’s a good guy. But like I said; he’s quiet and hard to read. Don’t help that Marie wants me to set up a dinner date so she can meet him. Can you believe her? I tell her we may need to watch out for him and she wants to meet him.”

“Marie knows best. She’s really become quite the leader.” Clint chirped, then paused, adding; “Did you, though?”

“Do what? Set up a time? Nah. He left in a hurry after Vanessa gave him his money back.”

“Well, this is just coming from me, but I think you’re stressing over nothing. It’s a little lie!” 

“It’s actually several little lies…”

“Bah, so what? The solution is simple! Anything else on your mind?”

There was; Lewis’ behavior that morning. Though Hannah had done her best to ignore it, it was the one thing that kept coming back to her. The harsh tone of his voice, that leering glare, the way he wouldn’t even look at her--something had happened to their relationship in the months she’d been gone and she was itching to know the answer. But Clint, helpful as he was, may not have any useful information. But Lewis’ animosity was as plain as the day is bright, and it hurt to think he may have developed a hatred for her. But was it really over killing Alfred? 

When Hannah didn’t say anything, Clint stood up and reached into the pocket of his pants. “If you’re done being so pathetic, I have something for you!” 

She punched his arm.

“Ow!”

“If you got me another peanut I swear to God--”

“No, it’s a real gift this time.” He held out his hand to her. Dangling from his fingers was the dainty silver chain of a necklace with a locket, glinting brightly in the light. Hannah reached out to gently grasp the necklace, which Clint released once it was between her fingers. “When I noticed your necklace was gone, I went out and got this.”

Hannah turned the necklace around. Her fingers gently stroked over the intricate designs of the locket, which closely resembled vines. The craftsmanship was gorgeous and far superior to the simple pendant of her old necklace. It was also real silver--her old necklace had been a mere pendant made out of a small emerald and held by a black string. As much as she enjoyed it, though, engravings on the back caught her eye, and her gentle smile turned into a mischievous one. “Got this for me, did you?”

“Yup.”

Clearing her throat, Hannah held up the locket and pretended to adjust glasses over her eyes. “To my darling Charlotte; may you always carry us with you, my love.”

Clint’s smile faded and his cheeks flushed bright red. “...Uh, I didn’t know it was engraved.”

Hannah snorted and pocketed the necklace. “I still like it, really. Might fetch a pretty penny--since I had to pay for Vanessa’s lunch.”

“You’re not gonna wear it?” 

“It’s a thoughtful gift, Clint, but I think it might be best if I don’t. I was pushing my luck with my old one anyway.” She pushed herself off the banister. “You’re the best, but I’m beat. Goodnight.”

“Uh… yeah. Night!”

She turned to leave, only for Clint to speak up once again. “It’s really great to have you back, Hannah.”

“It’s good to be back.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Thomas’ time in prison had been spent in quiet, depressive solitude. He could, even now, weeks after being threaded into society, conjure up the clear image of his cell, where he had spent countless days and nights staring at the walls and bars. He had counted every brick thrice over nearly every day when lethargy threatened his sanity, bore the uneven texture and the moss and mold that grew in some corners into his head. The lantern light from the hallways barely illuminated the dark confinement enough for him to make out details beyond its inviting light, and he had the unfortunate luck to be placed in a cell with no high, barred window. Some nights, whilst he sat in the miniscule corona of light that spilled into the inky blackness of his cell, he swore he could see eyes glaring at him from the darkness.

It is not unlike now, as he stands before the mirror of his rented room, eyeing himself with a harsh, critical eye. Though he may no longer be trapped within the forsaken fortress, he is confined in a different way, backed into a mental corner that was causing him far more distress than the distrustful eyes of his fellow inmates. He’d take a jailbird brawl over visiting his sister any day--and Sisika had given him plenty of those. Men in those cells felt threatened by Thomas’ size and stature, even if he wasn’t aggressive, but he’d still prefer to face off against barbarous thugs over showing up to his sister’s house, uninvited, and definitely unwelcome. 

He’d washed the night before, scrubbing at his flesh until it was red and raw, but he still looked dirty. He still looked like a rugged, simple idiot, even though he’d trimmed his scruff down and washed his hair. All the more for her to notice and castigate him for. 

Garbed in his suit--and a new hat, after taking Hannah’s advice into consideration--Thomas lingered on the balcony of his room for hours, hesitant. Always the early bird, he was awake before even the taxis, but as the morning droned on he knew he couldn’t put off visiting her forever. That didn’t stop him from smoking cigarettes one after the other, trying to steady his nerves. She was a woman of class and prosperity; he had nothing to fear from her, yet he was terrified all the same. Not only of her judgment, but of what she had to say about his house--about their mother. Did she die, alone, in that house? Was she buried during his time in prison? 

After the third cigarette that burned to a stub without ever touching his lips, Thomas gave up lighting them. He was too distraught and worried to even smoke properly. He watched the city come to life from his balcony before deciding, finally, to head over. Her house was a short walk away from the saloon and he knew it was better to get it over with now rather than continue to put it off. He grabbed the chocolate bar he’d bought the day prior, stuffed it into the pocket of his coat, and left.

It felt like the longest walk of his life. 

Finally, he was before her iron wrought fence, staring up at her three story Victorian house with it’s lush, lively garden and pastel pink cherry tree, feeling his anxiety worsen. A gloved hand gripped the latch on the gate tightly, hesitating, before Thomas finally pushed it open and approached the door. His heart was pounding as he lifted a hand to the polished wood and, with an iron vice upon his resolve, knocked on the rich red door four times. 

Though muffled, he could hear feet scurrying to the door, and tensed up as it was flung open. 

There stood a woman, mid-thirties, her mousy brown hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing an apron over a simple mint green work dress. Her large blue eyes stared curiously up at Thomas whilst she wore a pleasant, if fake, smile upon her painted lips. He wasn’t surprised to not recognize her; his sister went through maid’s like children went through candy. “May I help you, sir?” She chirped.

“I--I uh… is Mrs. Descoteaux in?” 

“Do you know the madame?”

“I--”

“She simply despises being bothered this early.”

“I’m her brother.”

The maid’s face went blank, briefly, before the fake smile returned. “Of course. Just a moment!”

With that, the maid shut the door and scampered away. Thomas fidgeted on the porch, gnawing the inside of his cheek, as he started to look around to find something, anything, to hold his attention before he lost his nerve and bolted. What he found was a spider, her web nestled right on the edge of the porch, feasting on a butterfly. Morbid as it was, he watched as the spider rolled the butterfly around, wrapping it in her silk._ How appropriate _, he thought bitterly.

Footsteps again, only this time heavier, slower, more deliberate in their approach. He turned his attention back to the door as it swung open, and there she was; his sister. Genevieve Descoteaux, garbed in an ornate, ostentatious gown of green with golden baroque designs swirling up and about the hem, stared down--figuratively speaking, of course; Thomas towered over her--her freckled nose at him. Her face was heavily powdered and her lips were a striking shade of red, matching the lines of red in her eyeshadow. Her sandy blond hair was pulled into a braided, intricate bun, which sat upon her head and was decorated with jeweled hair pins resembling dragonflies. Behind her, the gentle sounds of a screeching violin drifted through the house.

She looked him up and down, once, sneering the entire time. “Thomas.”

“Ginny--” Thomas started, only to be silenced by her sharply raising a hand. 

“Keep your voice down. Yvette is practicing Mozart and I won’t have you distracting her.” She crossed her arms haughtily. “Your impudence knows no bounds. Come for more salacious romps in my stables?” 

He felt his cheeks immediately beginning to burn. “No--” 

She stepped aside and gestured into the house. The movement looked mechanical and unfriendly. “Get in before someone sees you. What is that ridiculous outfit of yours?”

Though he obliged, Thomas wanted nothing more than to leave. As the door shut behind him, the maid reappeared and silently offered to take his hat and coat. He politely declined, which also earned a scoff from his sister. He scowled. “I ain’t here to fight, surely you can extend the same courtesy to me?”

She crossed her arms, eyeing him with a cruel edge to her dagger eyes. “Olivia.” 

The maid perked up. “Madame?”

“As you were.”

Thomas watched as Olivia curtseyed to them both and scampered off into the house, leaving the two siblings alone in the foyer. Ginny once again motioned for Thomas to follow and they went into the sitting room. The couch had been reupholstered since he was last here, and the rug was new; the whole room had been redone in a rich red wine color, complementing the dark, early American wood flooring and the lavish, gilded decor. The golds and reds of the room only made Thomas feel all the more out of place and unwanted, especially as Ginny seated herself daintily upon a loveseat and returned her cold brown eyes to her brother. She didn’t gesture to a seat and Thomas took that as a warning to stay off the furniture; as if he was nothing more to her than a dirty, mangy dog. 

“You reek.” She said finally as she reached over to a candy dish and plucked a bonbon out of the glamourous bowl. “Did you _ bathe _ in cologne?” When he didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to ask your questions, ask them now. You’ve already messed up my schedule by showing up, you needn’t cause further disarray.” 

Right down to business -- that was fine by him. “Where’s our mother?” 

“Here.”

Though Ginny said it so coldly, the news made Thomas feel positively elated, and a huge weight went flying off his heart as he smiled, genuinely, for the first time in months. Ever since discovering his house boarded up, the animals long gone and the crops overgrown and neglected, he’d assumed the worst--that Mama Shepherd had died alone in that house, awaiting the return of her son who was only supposed to go to town for a few items. He thought that she had rotted for weeks, perhaps even months, until passerby smelled her and removed her body, tossing her in an unmarked grave to be forgotten. Ginny didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps she didn’t care, how happy the news made him. 

“Is she alright? H-how long has she been here?” 

“From the moment Henri showed me your mugshot in the papers.” Her eyes squinted as she reached over to claim another sweet. “I’ve been dying to know, brother dearest; why’d you do it?”

His smile immediately faded. “... You really think I’d do that?”

Ginny leaned back. “Hard to know what to think when it comes to you.”

Once again, he did not answer, and once again, Ginny continued.

“The papers spun quite the vivid tale. Violent murderer kills Blackwater Elite, sparks massacre with gang of hired outlaws. Suppose the plan didn’t work. I heard plenty of those violent mercenaries got gunned down in the streets.” She popped yet another chocolate into her mouth. “Serves ‘em right.”

“I’d’ve sooner taken to the skies on wings I yanked off a hen before killin’ someone in cold blood.” He paused, then added; “Or associate with a gang.”

“And I only have your word to go off. Would you try to relax? You’ve already tarnished my reputation enough as it is; I’m not about to have you arrested and dragged out of my house in broad daylight.”

“I was framed!” He snapped, growing frustrated. At least there was some comfort in her words; she would keep her mouth shut about him. Granted, it was for her reputation, but that was going to have to be enough. Ginny had never held much value in family, after all. 

“Isn’t that what all the crooks and bad men say?” 

_ This is going nowhere _. “Look--I just… Is mama alright?” 

“She’s fine. Though your interruption has made her lunch late. You know how mother is with punctuality.” 

“Can I see her?” 

Ginny scowled. 

“Please. I’ve been worried about her--”

“I suppose.” She interrupted, sounding uninterested. “Once Olivia finishes her lunch you can go up with her to feed her.” Before Thomas could thank her, she went on. “Do you have anything else to ask?” 

“What happened to my house?” 

“Did you get knocked illiterate in prison? It got foreclosed--and not long after you were arrested, either. No wonder mother was such a wreck by the time we got to her.”

His heart, previously lifted, now crashed into smoke and flame. 

“Mother told me everything, Thomas. All the missed payments, the plea deals with the bank. She said you’d spend countless hours out hunting about, taking odd jobs from anyone and everything, selling your goats and sheep two at a time... and just barely making enough to pay off that month’s collection.”

“We were gettin’ by.”

“_ Gettin’ by, _” Ginny said, mimicking Thomas’ thick drawl. “Didn’t cut it, now did it? She barely had enough to get her through the week. Thank goodness the Saint Denis Times printed the papers so quickly.”

“You expect me to believe you went to get her the second the story went to print?” Thomas replied, tensing. “We ain’t got a damn letter from you in five years and--” 

“That certainly didn’t stop you and mother from sending your pitiful paragraphs regardless, now did it?” She smoothed down her dress. “Yvette saw the papers and was absolutely devastated. Henri showed me your article while he did his best to calm her and we set out to your wretched little home the very next day. It was the only way to calm my darling down. She was not having anything otherwise.”

“Wasn’t aware you needed a child to remind you not to leave your sick, elderly mother to the wolves.”

“And I wasn’t aware you were capable of savagery such as murder.” Ginny shot back. “I’d hoped your arrest would have curbed Yvette’s boundless adoration of you, but all it did was set her back in her studies.”

“I ain’t here to fight, Ginny, why do I need to tell you again?”

“Then what are you here for? A handout?”

“I already told you, I just want answers--and to take Mama home.”

“Oh?” She chuckled; a sound that lacked mirth and warmth. “Are you now? Back to your foreclosed shack? With the price you have on your head now? We’ll just be dropping by to pick her up again in a week’s time.”

“She--”

“She’s happy here, Thomas. Visit her if you absolutely must, but she is staying with me. You let her get so sick in the head, drinking all day and all night, barely making enough money to survive. At least here she’s been off the bottle the entire six months you’ve been locked up.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, because it is the truth. Not a drop of it has touched her lips since she’s been in my care.”

“Mama’s always hated cities.”

“She hates the thought of losing her family more--a thought you made reality when you went and got yourself arrested. Really, Thomas, use your head; are you really intending to take her away from the comforts of the life I am providing for her? Just to go back to scraping food like a vulture and barely surviving?”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Olivia entering the room with a silver platter balanced in each hand. The contents upon it softly rattled as she made her way through the room and over to Ginny. She set both down upon the table in front of her madame and removed the lids of both, revealing a teapot and a matching teacup on one platter with a bowl of steaming, savory soup upon the other. 

“Take him with you to Josephine.” Ginny said flatly, never removing her gaze from Thomas as Olivia poured her a cup of tea. “He wishes to see her.”

“Yes, madame.” Olivia scurried back into the kitchen and returned with another platter. Gesturing with her head, the little maid ducked into the foyer.

Thomas glared at his sister for a moment before turning and following Olivia. A swirling, dark feeling was back in his gut; that sticky, heavy sensation of despair and rage. He felt it so much during his time in Sisika. He didn’t want to admit that Genevieve was right. Even if he still had his home, he owed it to Mrs. LeClerk to do her bidding, and he was practically in her servitude until this giant mess was cleaned up and sorted. What was mama to do? Sit at home alone whilst he was out trapising the countryside, completing the whims of his savior in the company of an insufferable, rageful redhead?

Wordlessly, he followed Olivia through the foyer and into a small space, barely big enough to be a closet. Within that room was a flight of stairs, cramped and narrow; he was almost too big to walk through the corridor normally. Olivia practically floated up the stairs, her steps making nary a sound as she ascended, as opposed to Thomas’ loud, clunky footsteps. They reached another door, and Thomas watched, perplexed, as Olivia retrieved a key from the wall beside the door and proceeded to unlock it. 

“Why’s that locked?” He inquired suddenly, startling the poor maid.

“O-oh! Madame had me start locking this door some months ago. Josephine was quite the terror, you see, causing destruction and stealing wine.”

“Oh, was she now?”

“Absolutely, sir. We had a doctor come and examine her multiple times. The master wanted her to be admitted to the asylum for periodical fits and dissolute habits but the madame argued otherwise.” As she talked, Olivia opened the door, revealing a smaller set of stairs leading to another door. Thomas was beyond baffled to see this door, too, as locked. 

_ Something involving her reputation, no doubt. _Thomas thought bitterly as he watched Olivia slide the key into the hole and unlock it. The lock clattered open and she flashed an eager smile at Thomas.

“Olivia?” Came a frail, soft voice. “Is that you?”

“It is!” Olivia called, turning to push the door open with her hip. “You have company, Josephine!”

Thomas stepped into the room right on Olivia’s heels, his heart pounding. He was both extremely eager and undoubtedly terrified to see his mother after so long. After all, the only reason he went to Blackwater to begin with, instead of Valentine, was to get away from her. They’d been arguing for hours that fateful day and what hurt most was that he couldn’t remember any of it; the words were poisoned, shouted and spat simply to be hurtful and to cause an upset.

The first thing he noticed was the room was extremely hot and stuffy--the next thing he noticed was that it was insultingly small. Ginny’s entire house was large, with high walls and towering ceilings. But this room was practically miniature; the bed was shoved against one side of the wall, where the sloping ceiling was at its shortest. The only source of natural light was a tiny circle window, akin to that of a port window on a ship, nestled in the dead center of the farthest wall. The walls were barren, lacking pictures and wallpaper and paint, leaving the room feeling disjointed from the rest of the gaudy home.

The room itself was also pitifully bare. Aside from the bed, only a lone stool and a single nightstand could be found within. Josephine Shepherd sat upon the feeble, poor excuse for a bed, its frame wobbling as she sat up to receive her lunch, and Thomas’ previous excitement withered at the sight of her. He felt awkward, suddenly, and terrified. Whilst she’d never been a thicker woman like Ginny was or as tan as Thomas, she’d never been this thin and this pale. Her greying brown hair was braided, or rather, knotted, and she looked like she never slept. 

Her dark eyes lit up upon seeing Thomas. “Tommy?” She questioned, swiftly removing the blanket. 

Thomas crossed the room before she even got the chance to stand from the bed, meeting her for a tight embrace. She felt so frail; her shoulder blades and spine could be felt, even through the cotton of her nightdress. Mama Shepherd wept as she held him tight, burying her face into his shoulder, and it took all he had not to cry with her. Olivia stood off to the side, her hands pressed together to form pyramids and held at her lips.

“Oh, Tommy-boy, I thought I’d never see you again.” She said through her tears. Pulling away, she looked up into face, as if not believing he was really there. A sickly, skeletal hand reached up to rest along his cheek. “I thought the worst all this time.”

“So did I, mama.” Thomas replied, reaching up to remove her hand from his face and instead hold it between his own. 

“You look so tired…”

He sneered playfully at that. “Look who’s talking.” 

Mama Shepherd wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “Henri showed me the papers. Oh, how I cried for days! Sentenced to hang! However did you escape?”

“A generous liberator.”

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“A woman named Mrs. LeClerk and some man named Mr. Horley.” Thomas pulled the stool over to Mama Shepherd’s bed as she backed up to sit on it once again. “She claims to know it was a setup and intends to expose those involved.”

“Goodness!”

He nodded solemnly.

“I knew something weren’t right about that article.”

“Mrs. LeClerk is going to help me clear my name and get those numbers off my head.” He scratched at his jaw. “Are you safe here, mama?”

“What a ridiculous question,” Olivia chimed in, placing the platter down on the nightstand. “Of course she’s safe here!” 

“Olivia keeps me company.” Mama Shepherd replied. “Her and Yvette come up to see me all the time.”

“You don’t ever… go down?”

Mama Shepherd’s smile faded, then, and she looked away. The lack of an answer made Thomas furious. 

“Are you just locked up here all the goddamn time?”

“Watch your mouth.” She snapped, though the aggression faded as quickly as it appeared. “It… it’s for the best. It’s to keep me safe.”

“Safe.” He parroted, sounding incredulous. 

“Yes, safe. Genevieve and Henri have been good to me, Tommy-boy. Please don’t go looking for a fight.”

_ Locked behind two doors all by yourself is safe? _ He thought. 

“They saved me after you disappeared. I didn’t even know about your arrest and they came to my aide as soon as they could.” The tears started up again. “We were already so low on food when you departed and they found me with only a few cans of salmon and strawberries left.”

“Why keep you up here?” 

“For my own good.” 

Thomas sneered.

“Don’t be grumpy.”

“Ain’t grumpy, mama--I’m furious.”

“It’s my own fault.”

“She ain’t gotta lock you away like a dirty secret!” 

“Thomas, knock that off. I’ve come to terms with this; it’s doctor’s orders.” 

“That’s horseshit.”

“Unfortunately not, sir.” Olivia said. “It might be hard to accept, but this truly was the best option for Josephine.”

“The best option is for her to go home.” Thomas snarled. He reached over to hold Mama Shepherd’s hand. “On my word, I’m gonna get the house back. And when all this is cleared, we’re going home.”

Mama Shepherd squeezed his hand. “Those are mighty pretty words, Thomas… how will you get the money?”

What a heavy question--one that he thought about often. Reclaiming a foreclosed home wasn’t going to be a simple task, but the journey with Mrs. LeClerk was only just beginning; there would be a way for him to get money, wouldn’t there? There had to be--there must be. He was going to need enough to not only buy the house back, but to also keep them afloat, to keep them fed, and safe, and secure. He owed that to Mama Shepherd, and also himself.

But he also wanted to show Ginny he was just as capable of being a provider. “By any means necessary.”

“Don’t go robbin’ trains, boy.”

“Lookin’ for money, mama, not a free escort back to Sisika.” He released her hands. “They took Pa’s repeater when I got picked up. I’s hopin’ you had the others…?”

Mama Shepherd’s brow furrowed, briefly, before she suddenly clapped her hands together. “I do!” She looked over at Olivia, gestured, and the younger woman nodded in understanding. “I brought something’s with me to the city when Genevieve and Henri came to get me. Most of it is portraits and books but… I did manage to grab your guns.”

He sighed in relief. 

As Olivia approached the bed, Thomas heard frantic footsteps clamoring up the steps, as well as Ginny’s muffled yelling. Just as Olivia finished dragging a trunk out from under the bed, the door to the room was thrown open and Yvette came bounding into the room. She was adorned in a frilly, white cotton dress, with the hem of the skirt reaching her knees. A petticoat made the skirt appear fuller, accentuating Yvette’s bouncing movements as she hurried over to the bed. Baby blue accents lined the hem and waist of the skirt, and a ribbon of the same color kept her platinum blonde hair pulled into a neat little bun. 

Watching her pelt into Thomas’ back was like watching a piece of paper getting tossed at a brick wall. She wrapped her arms around him in a frantic hug, babbling incoherently about everything from the awful things she heard, her lessons for the violin and schooling, as well as a myriad of other things that got drowned out in her sobbing laughter. 

“I told Evelyn you weren’t gonna hang!” She cried, clutching the lapels of his coat. “She said murderers always hang, and I told her you ain’t no murder, and she claimed that her papa worked at Sisika and he’d seen you bash a man over the head with a tiny porcelain figurine till he was dead, and I knew that wasn’t true, and I heard that they feed the prisoners rat tails and lizard eyes over there and I heard that the man you shot was a spy from China and I heard a whole gang of outlaws tried to burn Blackwater down and--”

“Yvette, breathe.” Olivia said.

She shot a look over at Olivia, then took a few calming breaths. “Mother and father told me I couldn’t send letters to Sisika, so I sent them all to the Emerald Station post office. I sent you one every day! Did you get them yet?”

“I’m afraid not…” Thomas replied. “Ain’t had the time. I heard you playin’ the violin. Gave up on the piano, Evie?” 

“The violin is prettier.” She bashfully looked behind her at Mama Shepherd. “But I don’t play it so good…”

“Don’t look at me, missy.” She replied. “I only know how to fiddle--you know how your mother detests that.”

* * *

* * *

After two hours spent in their company, Thomas knew it was time to leave. The departure was brief, but he’d still managed to sneak Yvette the chocolate he’d bought when she followed him along the length of her fence, asking if he’d drop by again soon. He left feeling a weight off his heart, but a sinking, heavy sensation in his gut. It soured his mood the further he got from Ginny’s house, and it wasn’t until he was at the fenced park outside the tailor that he finally stopped walking, choosing instead to lean against the fence and light up a cigarette. 

There was so much for him to be grateful for. His mother was alive and well, safe in the care of his sister and her family. Mama Shepherd had retrieved his guns, meaning he wouldn’t have to spend more money on a gun better than the ridiculous carbine. He also had his freedom, even if it was indentured. But he couldn’t shake Ginny’s cruel words from his mind or the fact that Josephine Shepherd was being held in the attic of the house, locked behind two doors, completely shut off from the world. It made him absolutely sick with fury. He couldn’t ignore that, as much as he hated Ginny for what she said, it was true. 

An officer walked by, whistling, and Thomas kept his head tilted so his hat hid his face.

He wouldn’t just need money to get his house back--he’d need it to keep himself and Mama Shepherd stable and happy. Thinking about it made him anxious; he was banking hard on Mrs. LeClerk being able to clear his name. Without a clear name, he couldn’t approach law firms, he couldn’t plead his case, he couldn’t take well-paying jobs, and all that meant was he couldn’t do a damned thing about his foreclosed home. He gnawed on the end of his cigarette, before ripping it from his lips and throwing it down and extinguishing it with his boot. 

“Hey! Look who it is!”

He closed his eyes, wincing at the familiar voice. _ Great. Just what I need _.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *minor changes. fixed thomas's nickname for his niece, since the original was not time appropriate.


	10. Chapter 10

The two hours Thomas had spent in the company of Mama Shepherd and Yvette had, indeed, removed the burdensome anguish that had haunted him since he first stepped foot inside Sisika’s highly protected walls. The gossip and tales and stories swapped between them all, Olivia included, as she had loosened up and seemed more comfortable when not near Ginny, had made him feel lighter, happier, even though his situation was still unbearably unfortunate.

And it seemed Hannah was here to extinguish what little joy he had found in such debilitating times. 

He watched her approach through the lethargic droves of the Saint Denis bourgeoisie, debating if he should give her the time of day. After all, he was planning on returning to his room so he could not only begin packing, but also start saving his money. The stable fees, as well as the price of his room, was slowly sapping away the money that he had earned from helping Clinton Arnsdale and Police Chief Dunbar. The hat and suit had also cut into his funds and they were, by far, his most regrettable purchase. The hat was just for this stupid city and this damnable suit would never be worn again; not if he had anything to say about it.

As Hannah neared, Thomas finally noticed the two strangers following closely behind her. One was a man, taller than Hannah, with striking blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The other was a woman, shorter, but stout, and dressed rather nicely in comparison to Hannah and the man. She was dark skinned, with deep brown eyes and neat, well kempt dreads. Hannah practically bounded up to him and Thomas could already feel the spike of uneasiness. Ginny had already drained his energy for the day, was Hannah here to finish it off? 

“You’re an annoying man to hunt down, y’know that?” Hannah said. Her dark red hair was pulled into a lazy ponytail that draped over her left shoulder and she was wearing a bright, plaid yellow shirt with dark jeans and suspenders. Her lipstick was still fresh, causing her lips to shimmer in the high noon sun. But it wasn’t her charmingly done make-up that had Thomas’ attention; it was the tagalongs behind her. “I see you took my hat advice.”

“Ain’t tryin’ to be shipped back to Sisika.” He grumbled.

“You also got your guns…” She cleared her throat. “Not to be rude but uh… maybe don’t walk Saint Denis lookin’ like a gunslinger if you’re tryin’ to hide.” 

“_ Miss Denson _,” Thomas started, the frustration clear in his voice, but Hannah stalled his irked response by holding her hands up in a surrendering manner. 

“Just lookin’ out for you. Anyway, are you busy?” 

His eyes flicked to the strangers behind her. “Why?”

“I have some people I’d like you to meet!” 

“I don’t--”

“I know, you don’t want to, but they’re already here and it won’t take long! This is...”

Thomas stole another glance at Hannah’s companions as her words became a string of white noise, drowned out by the untamed thoughts that kept spilling from the depths of his mind. He was angered by Ginny’s gall; the holier-than-thou, pious way in which she had spoken to him kept replaying in his head, as well as the way he had simply allowed it. She treated him no better than one would treat a mongrel on the streets of this accursed city and that sent waves of hate through his psyche. Ginny acted like a sanctimonious hypocrite, regarding Thomas with a judgmental tone for leaving their mother alone as if she hadn’t done the same thing all those years ago.

It seemed sister dearest had forgotten it was she who up and left at eighteen, running into the arms of the first man to show her affection and eloping not even a week after knowing him. Thomas had only been fourteen then, and the loss of another member of their already small family had sent Mama Shepherd into another spiralling depression, believing her last daughter dead. The drinking had worsened and as a result, so too did their lives. Ginny ghosted them for years, letting them think she had died, only to suddenly send a letter out of the blue, on Christmas eve. She had escaped the hellhole they called their life by leaving him and Mama in the dark and she had the audacity to pretend she was the light of their lives now for her charitable act of not leaving their mother to die alone.

She had the luxury of forgetting the past. She wasn’t there when the bear attack happened. She wasn’t there when ranch hands from Emerald Ranch stole their sheep. She wasn’t there when a mountain lion killed their donkey and subsequently, their lambs. She wasn’t the one who resorted to stealing. She wasn’t there for the yelling, the screaming, the endless fighting. She wasn’t there to mop up the vomit, to dry the tears; yet oh, how Josephine cried for her. Day and night, weeping over yet another lost branch in the Shepherd family tree. Only, lo and behold, the branch never disappeared. Ginny swooped in, when Thomas was stripped of his rights, and acted as though she had always been there for their mother when it couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth.

She had the arrogance to accuse him of encouraging Mama Shepherd’s drinking habit, as if Thomas hadn’t already tried every trick in the book. She had the audacity to mock him as a caregiver, to poke and prod at his mistakes as if she had given him any other choice. She had left when they were both so young, when their mother was already so fragile and a drunkard, and her insolent cowardice had been the crack that shattered the dam. Family meant nothing to her and yet there she stood, preaching to him, as if she didn’t have Mama locked away in the attic… 

“Thomas?” Hannah’s voice sliced through the roaring, jumbled thoughts and she momentarily claimed his attention, though he still felt absent. He felt like a shell and that his true self was floating above them, lost in the fuzziness of his mind, tethered by a thin string that threatened to snap. His dark eyes fixed on her and she gestured meekly to her companions. “Wanna perhaps say _ hello _?” 

He blinked. 

“Very talkative. Has he considered taking a job up as an auctioneer?” Said the man.

“Hannah,” The woman started, her hand lifting in a brief wave. Her accent was a thick Louisiana one that caught Thomas off-guard. “Did you pay this man for his help with the supplies? Annie said it was quite the haul to bring back.”

_ That _ yanked Thomas back to Earth. Though it took a moment for the realization to hit, because he had not helped Hannah recover supplies; they went out into the swamps to rescue a woman… didn’t they? His brow furrowed as Hannah spun around to face the black lady behind her. They whispered, too quiet for Thomas to hear, and he and the tall blonde man stood awkwardly, staring at each other, as they argued. He had half a mind to turn and leave--but it was a lie to say that he was not interested in hearing that he was supposed to be paid.

“Miss Denson,” Thomas started, silencing the two ladies. “My morning has been dreadful. This suit is mighty hot and I would like to get out of it. Can we _ please _ meet your--what are they? Informants? At a different time?”

Hannah turned back around. “I promise we won’t take long. I just--ah, you see uh… Mother Marie here, she’s from that reform school remember? She was adamant about meeting you and Clint is… along for the fun.”

Marie’s ‘excuse me’ went unnoticed. 

“_ Mother _Marie?” He parroted. 

Hannah crossed her arms. “That’s right.” 

“As in a _ Catholic _Mother?”

“Y-yeah...” 

“They let her walk around out of her gown?”

Hannah thinned her lips. Behind her, Marie was giving her a slitted, evil glare, and Clint was biting his bottom lip as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “It’s a special treat for Wednesday’s.”

“It’s not--”

“Can’t do undercover charity work dressed as a nun!”

He rested one hand on his gun belt. “Y’know what? I don’t care.”

Her smile faded. “Who waded your bloomers up and stuffed ‘em up your crack?” 

“You did, by showin’ up with these two.” Thomas gestured haphazardly to Clint and Marie. Clint placed an offended hand over his heart that Thomas ignored. “How long are you plannin’ on foolin’ around in this shithole? We got things to do.”

“You and I can’t be the only one’s ridin’ down to Tumbleweed to help _ one _ sheriff, Thomas.” 

“Either of these two offerin’ to come?” 

“Well, no, but--” 

“Then why do they need to meet me?” At that point, his dark eyes turned back to Clint and Marie. 

Marie cut in when Hannah started to fumble with her words. “To ask for your assistance, whenever you are able. I understand the duty you two serve to Mrs. LeClerk, but I would appreciate a helping hand wherever I can find one. Also, Hannah is precious to me. Is it a crime for me to meet those she spends her time with?”

“She’s precious to me, too.” Clint chirped up. “But I was more concerned that she was gonna bully her LeClerk compadre, y’know? Came to see if the other Sisika escapee could handle her.”

Hannah shot Clint a look and Thomas fixed a deadpan, unimpressed expression upon the trio. His thoughts drifted once more, threatening to tear his attention away from the impromptu meeting, when Marie spoke again. He simply was not in the right mindset for all this.

“Perhaps we can start over.” She stuck her hand out. “My name is Marie and this is Clint.” When Thomas regarded her hand cautiously and made no move to shake it, she dropped it back to her side. She and Hannah shared an awkward glance at each other before Marie crossed her arms. “Well… I wanted to thank you for your help, though I am very disappointed to hear you haven’t been compensated for your time.”

He looked at Hannah, who turned away from his harsh suspicion. “Weren’t a wagon I went into the swamps for.”

“It’s a wagon we wanted?”

“What about the woman?”

“What do you me--”

“--Anyway!” Hannah cut in suddenly, forcing a chuckle. “Thomas, you have my word that you’ll get paid for helpin’. Matter of fact, how about you go change and meet me at the post office? We’ll go to the fence, I can pawn off these beauties,” As she talked, she held up a small bag, swelled with goodies, that jingled musically as she shook it to emphasize her words. “And I can give you your share from that little… excursion.” 

He narrowed his eyes. Though he was drained from his time spent in Ginny’s house, Hannah’s odd behavior and the confused expressions Marie kept pulling didn’t escape him. She was lying to him about something and the more she babbled, the more Thomas was beginning to think a woman had never been in danger. Another brief moment of bickering started between the three and, unwilling to stand by and listen to it, he agreed and made a swift exit. 

* * *

* * *

The back of Hannah’s head still hurt where Marie had thumped her, hard, for lying about who they were, but even that paled in comparison to the headache she had as she stood at the post office, waiting, her thoughts continuously interrupted by the shouting taxis and screaming hordes of people. Across the street, a feral cur barked at passerby, and beside her, a young paperboy hollered the daily news at the top of his screeching lungs, contributing to her headache, and the stench of horse shit and burning fish made her want to vomit. Marie told her to give Thomas over half of the earnings from the pawned off jewelry for sending him into danger through a lie. 

She thought about ignoring the request, but she feared Marie’s ire, and for all she knew, it would get back to her that Hannah had disobeyed a, relatively, reasonable request. A part of her hoped that Thomas would be uncomfortable with the disproportionate divide, but his foul mood told her to expect otherwise. As she waited, Hannah swung the little baggie around her finger, thinking hard about the upcoming trip to Tumbleweed. None of the Hellcats could be spared for the trip and she wasn’t too keen on Marie’s offer to haggle Marvin for an extra gun; they were struggling enough as it was without needing to pay that leech of a man for his bullheaded mercenaries. 

Hannah had faith in her own abilities, and Thomas wasn’t a bad shot himself, but Tumbleweed was quite a distance away, and it was Del Lobo territory they were going to be waltzing into. The mere thought of being ambushed by those brutes was enough to turn her blood to ice, but they were trapped by duty and obligation, and Jessica’s allies had waited long enough for their help. Sighing heavily, Hannah rubbed at her temple. Tano, tethered to a nearby hitching post, nickered softly at her. 

“I know, girl.” She replied, pushing herself off the wall and approaching the mare. “We’re in a heap of shit.”

As she ran her fingers through the horse’s dark red mane, smoothing out any tangles and dealing with knots, she was relieved to see Thomas finally coming down main street. Her eyes caught the bandage around his arm and a brief feeling of guilt formed in the pit of her stomach. Just as quickly as it appeared, though, it faded, and she gave Tano a final pat before meeting Thomas across the street. He still looked irate. _ Great _.

“I didn’t get… the chance to ask how your arm’s doing.” She mumbled, gesturing awkwardly.

He glanced down at it, then shrugged. Hannah wrinkled her nose at him, but decided not to push his buttons. He was sour enough without her trying to shove lemons down his throat. Turning and walking down the sidewalk, the pair headed towards the market in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Hannah weaved between the clumps and clusters of Saint Denis citizens with practiced ease, though she noticed she didn’t have to bob and duck as much as she usually did; it definitely had something to do with the giant brute tailing after her. 

As they neared the market, Hannah turned around and tossed the bag of jewels towards him. He almost dropped it, though the string holding it closed snagged on his finger. Thomas shot her a quizzical look and she put her arms behind her back, feigning innocence. “Fat, ain’t it? I figure there’s at least thirty bucks in that. Now, I got to thinkin’, since you got hurt that day, and my roommate robbed you, I feel it’s only fair if you get twenty of it and I pocket the other ten. Seems good?”

She watched as Thomas fondled the small bag, but never opened it. It looked hilariously tiny in his large hands. His face remained statuesque, with only the slightest furrowing of his brows giving her any indication that he was even listening. Hannah continued to hope he would find issue in the split and watched his face expectantly. “Where’s the fence?” He asked, and her face fell. 

Accepting the silent deal with herself, Hannah held her hands in a ‘catch’ pose and Thomas tossed the sack back to her.

It all happened so fast.

As it soared through the air, between the two who stood only a few feet apart, a dark brown mongrel lept between them and snatched the bag right before their eyes. It landed with grace that rivaled that of a cat, and it took off, like a bullet, into the market. Hannah stood in place, processing what had just happened, before she shouted several profanities and turned on her heel to give chase to the dog. She lost sight of the beast for only a moment, only to catch it turning swiftly into the caged area next to the fence. None too kind, Hannah shoved her way through the shoppers. A woman she passed by dropped her melons and they splattered loudly on the stone, followed by high pitched wailing. 

Hannah turned the corner just in time to see the lowly mutt dropping her pouch into the hand of a young man, garbed in ragged clothes and a worn flat cap. He patted the dog lovingly, pale hands running gently along its neck and behind it’s ears. The boy noticed her presence when the dog’s ears perked and it immediately turned around, it's dark eyes fixating on Hannah’s imposing form in the entranceway. A low growl escaped the mutt as it’s hair along its spine stood on end and her hand instinctively went to her revolver. Upon seeing her hand on her gun, the street urchin tensed, and under the cap, Hannah could see a feral frown contort his lips.

“Nice trick you taught that thing,” Hannah said, her voice a low, threatening snarl. “But I’m going to have to ask you to give back my pouch.”

The mutt barked a warning at her as the boy slowly rose to his feet. She could see her pouch dangling from, surprisingly dainty fingers, and she kept her eyes trained on him. She raised her hand, palm open, towards the young man, her frown deepening as she took a step forward. Thomas ran up behind her, and his presence alarmed the dog further, as well as caused the stranger to backaway. Hannah pulled her revolver out, slowly, and his attention returned to her. 

“Give it back.” She repeated.

Hannah watched as the urchin seemed to deeply consider his options, before slowly beginning to step forward. Grinning triumphantly, she placed her gun back in its holster as the young man crept forward with his snarling dog at his heels, it’s deep black eyes focusing only upon Hannah and Thomas. A rat skittered across the pathway and the hound did not flinch. As the man neared, Hannah could make out little wisps of ebony black unfurling from beneath the cap, as well as a rounded chin and plush, pink lips. She only caught a flash of his furious, burning blue eyes when, suddenly, the man reached up and swiftly yanked down a stack of furniture between him and Hannah and Thomas. 

“You little fucking bastard!” Hannah screamed, stumbling backwards into Thomas she dodged the heavy, crushing furniture. The gong of the grandfather clock that had been in the pile sounded loudly, nearly drowning out the snarling dog, as Hannah whirled around and immediately gave chase to the man, who had taken off towards a flight of stairs. The beast stood in her way, baring its teeth in a wolfish grin, and Hannah pulled her gun on it. 

That was when a roof shingle, thrown with intent to harm, struck Hannah upside the head. Her revolver fell from her hand as she clutched at the crown of her skull, hissing in pain. That’s when she heard the man whistle sharply from above, and the dog’s growling immediately stopped. It looked almost cute, the way it’s large brown eyes twinkled in the sunlight and it’s ears flopped happily to the sides of it’s round head. The cuteness didn’t last long; Hannah released a string of horrendous curses as the dog trotted up to her schofield revolver, one of her pride and joys, and scooped it up in it’s mouth and proceeded to dart away in a dead run. 

“Thomas!” Hannah shrieked as she ran for the stairs. The man, realizing she was intent on chasing him, ducked away from the edge of the roof and took off. “Get after that goddamned dog!” 

She didn’t wait to see if he would give chase. Instead, Hannah darted up the stairs two at a time, then used the awning to gain the leverage she needed to get up onto the roofs. Her hair spun wildly around her head like a crown of flames as she fervently scanned the rooftops, looking for the wretched urchin that had stolen her pouch and, now, one of her revolvers. She spotted him not far, leaping across the rooftops with unnatural ease, and she immediately gave chase. The vile rat had an easier time scaling many of the buildings and, several times, he pulled ahead almost too far for Hannah to find him again. 

The man ascended upon an abandoned building by the rickety, lopsided balcony that faced the alleyways by grabbing the railing and hoisting himself up. Hannah watched as the railing shook violently under the man’s weight as he jumped off the narrow metal barrier and down onto the wooden pathway, taking off at a light jog. Anger swelling, Hannah swallowed any fear she had climbing the dangerous terrace and kicked off the roof she was currently standing on, launching herself towards the decaying railing. She fumbled wildly, then hung in the air limply, steadying her nerves as she fruitlessly tried to pull herself up. The man made it look so _ easy _. With a thud, she tumbled onto the stable part of the structure with a grunt. Hannah got back to her feet and followed after the man as he climbed onto a hilted rooftop. 

But she was persistent, and though she nearly slipped off a sloped roof, she continued after him. The man jumped up a large, jutting sign, shot a look over his shoulder, and continued leading Hannah on a goosechase across the rooftops of Saint Denis. He would stop long enough to impede her progress in some way, including throwing more roof shingles or even stepping on her fingers. Hannah’s fingers were searing with a dull ache, her legs burning, as she once again found her way up onto a high steeple, and she grinned upon finding the man standing on the other end of the roof, peering down. Between this building and the next was a long drop down onto the cobblestone below. He turned around to leer at her and she stepped closer. 

“You…” She panted, trying to sound intimidating through the heavy breathing. The man looked behind him at the drop again, then back at Hannah. “Give me back my shit.”

Distantly, Hannah could hear shouting and what sounded like a dog yelping. The man, upon hearing the dog cry out, tensed, and his bright blue eyes burned with a fierceness that rivalled Hannah’s. She took a step forward and she was surprised to see him mimic it. Tucking wild, fiery hair behind her ear, Hannah went to hold out her hand again--only for the man to run at her, as if he was intent on tackling her or, more likely, shove her off the roof. Horrified, she ducked into fight stance, ready to catch the man and grapple with him--and hoping to snap his neck for trying something so dastardly--only to watch in mild terror as he ran close enough that she could see the sweat gathering at his temples and then turn around, run back towards the edge of the roof, and take a leap of faith to the other building. 

Running over, Hannah cursed once more upon finding that he had stuck the landing onto the other building. He rolled across the rooftop, bounced to his feet and spun around to face her. Dusting himself off, the urchin gave her a cocky, two fingered salute. Hannah watched in disbelief, panting, her face turning red not only from exhaustion, but pure rage. Fueled by this burst of anger, Hannah shook her arms and legs, jogged in place… and then went for the jump as well. 

In the air, she truly thought she’d make it just like he had. But she dropped like a rock, and Hannah screamed as she hit the lip of the roof on her stomach. She grabbed weakly at the edge, trying to pull herself up even as her abdomen seared with agony. Her feet kicked at the wall, trying to find leverage to get up onto the roof and the man regarded her with a flat expression. Her heart stopped when she slipped a little further off the edge and she feared that he would take this opportunity to dispose of his pursuer. 

Instead, she watched in sheer bewilderment as he instead turned away and pushed his jacket to the side and retrieved--of all things--a grappling hook from his side. She could tell it was crudely made, with the hook part very clearly being three hooks from a fishing ship tied tightly together. Without sparing her another glance, the man effortlessly tossed his homemade grappling hook onto the adjacent building, taking his sweet time to ensure the hook was properly snagged. By the time Hannah had finally clambered up onto solid ground, the man had swung over and was in the process of inching up the rope. She pulled her twin schofield from its holster, furious by these turn of events, and took aim at the man’s back. 

But… she didn’t shoot. 

It would only draw the law and that was the last thing she needed. A little makeup fooled people from afar, but being taken into custody for disturbing the peace would only cause a shipment back to Sisika and her immediate hanging. She watched, defeated, as the man scrambled over the lip of the roof, reclaimed his grappling hook, and disappeared down and along a fire escape, finally going out of view by hopping onto a scaffolding and creeping across it. Just as Hannah was ready to accept her pouch was gone, and that Marie couldn’t get mad at her for not paying Thomas if they’d been robbed, she got an idea. 

Jumping down onto a shorter roof right beside the one she was currently on, Hannah blessedly soon found herself back on the ground. She felt more confident giving chase on the ground; this street urchin was clearly a master of the rooftops, but Hannah knew the Labyrinth that is Saint Denis and its twisting alleyways like the back of her hand, and with this knowledge, she knew that man was heading towards a building project. Taking off at a light jog, trying to control her breathing, Hannah followed the alley, wet from God knows what, to where she had last seen him, keeping her ears open and alert. It was easy to tune out the sounds of the city when it was all you heard, like white noise in the background. 

Beneath the shouting and clacking of horse hooves, Hannah picked it up; the gentle footsteps and consequent shaking of the scaffoldings as the man moved along them. Pressing herself into the darker shadows of the alleys, Hannah desperately hoped the man was not as intuned as she was as she scanned the slits in the scaffolding flooring to find where he could be. A shadow moved through the light further down and she quickly followed after it. She could hear the jewelry jingling in the pouch, as well as the gentle clinking of the handmade grappling hook as it swung by his hip. 

For several minutes, Hannah followed the man as he snaked his way along planks. Whenever he stepped on an unsteady one, she got her hopes up that he would fall, but he was surprisingly lithe and quick to react. But she was biding her time, for one of these scaffoldings was unsecured; she knew, because she and Clint had found it and he had taken quite the fall. They had intended to steal some of the building supplies to help restore the hotel. She simply had to be patient and quiet. 

Another loud yelp in the distance paused the man’s slow trek and Hannah pressed herself harder against the wall. Just a few more steps--

Hannah was startled when he suddenly jumped off the scaffolding, landing in a puddle that splashed her slightly, and broke into a run. Well, there went her original plan! Thinking quickly, Hannah shoved herself off the wall and ran after him, closing the distance between them swiftly. Without a second thought, she tackled the man to the floor, missing his upper body but managing to wrap herself around his legs. They fell to the ground with a heavy thud, his jaw bouncing off the wet stones, and Hannah immediately righted herself. Straddling him, Hannah turned him around, which proved a difficult feat due to his violent thrashing. The man’s cap had been knocked off in the tackle, revealing a head of deep black hair pulled into a loose bun. As they struggled, Hannah redrew her schofield and pressed all her weight down on the urchin and jammed the barrel of her revolver against his jawline, where the five o’clock shadow was now a patchy smear. 

“I oughta blow your brains out all over this alleyway, wretch.” Hannah snarled, pushing the barrel into his skin, hard. She pulled the hammer back as a warning and he stilled. She reached down to his hips and shoved her hands into his pockets, locating her little jewelry bag. “Who the _ hell _ do you think you are?”

Their eyes met, feral fury and righteous rage, just inches apart, and realization hit Hannah, then. This wasn’t a _ he _ at all.

This was a woman and one that Hannah had met before. Her long, sleek black hair finally fell free of its bun and spilled into her face, obscuring half of it with wild strands, and half the charcoal upon her visage had been splashed off, and Hannah finally recognized her as Rose; Annie’s friend and the jailbird she and Thomas had rescued. Similar to when they had broken her out, Rose looked just like a trapped animal, her eyes murderous and hands forming claws as she clutched at the ground.

“I’ll be _ goddamned _.”

* * *

* * *

Holding Rose by the back of her neck, Hannah forced her to walk back to the fence, where she met up with Thomas who, also, had the dog held tightly by the scruff of his neck. Hannah’s other schofield was still clutched tightly in the dog’s maw. Upon seeing Rose, it’s snarling ceased, though Thomas’ iron grasp did not loosen. Rose, too, softened at seeing her faithful companion being manhandled, and she shot a dangerous look at Thomas. Hannah shoved Rose forward and the two Sisika escapees cornered her at the back of the market away from prying eyes and nosy ears. 

“You’re quite the slippery bastard,” Hannah said. She gestured to the dog. “Call it off.” 

Rose stood firm, glaring them both down with eyes sharper than any dagger. Thomas hoisted the dog by its scruff until it was only touching the ground with its hind legs. Though it did not yelp, the dog whimpered pitifully, and the look on Rose’s face could only be described as feral, comparable to the savage look of a mother bear finding her cub in danger. Thomas met her furious eyes with a leveled gaze, though muted fury swirled in those deep brown depths. 

“_ Call it off _.” He barked, repeating Hannah’s demand. 

After several heartbeats, as if weighing her options, Rose seemed to yield. She whistled sharply, patted her outer thigh twice, and the dog immediately released the revolver. Thomas caught it by the barrel and let the dog go as he handed the gun over to Hannah. The mongrel instantly ran over to Rose, circled behind her legs, and sat itself down on her left side. Hannah graciously took her gun, though her smug smile disappeared the second she felt the slobber all along the hilt of her precious schofield. 

Fishing out her cleaning rag, Hannah started cleaning her gun as she regarded Rose and her dog with a cruel glint in her eye. Rose pushed her black hair out of her face with one hand as the other rested on the top of her dog’s head. Soothed by its master, the dog seemed far more approachable, with large, gentle brown eyes and the cutest tilt of its head. One of its ears was missing its tip and a light scar ran up the length of the damaged ear. Thomas recognized the breed as a Chesapeake bay retriever, though it’s coat was much darker--a deep brown that looked almost black.

“You got a weird way of thanking people for saving your life.” Hannah said finally as she returned her schofield to its holster. “Kicking Mr. Shepherd in the family jewels wasn’t enough for you, so you figured you’d also rob us?”

Rose’s gentle, almost lethargic, stroking upon her dog’s head was continuous; she wasn’t scared of them. It was an uncomfortable, stark contrast to the fury in her piercing blue eyes, the way her lips set in a tight frown and her brows knitted together. She was slaughtering them with her hostile gaze, no doubt imagining just how easy it would be to slice their throats.

She also didn’t answer. Irritated by her silence, Hannah went on. “I pitied you because Annie told me you were a gentle soul. But I fear dear little Annie is too kind for her own good; so tell me, you thieving little shit--what do you think we should do with you?”

“Who’s Annie?” Thomas asked, and Rose narrowed her eyes at him. The gentle patting along her dog’s head turned to scratching behind its ear when she looked at Thomas. The evil look went unnoticed; this was the third time he’d heard that woman’s name.

Hannah paled, then cleared her throat. “Nobody.”

“_ Mother _Marie mentioned her as well.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

“_ Yeah _?” He replied, sounding incredulous. 

“Thomas, now isn’t the time--” 

“We don’t have_ time _, period.” Thomas snapped, stepping between her and Rose. “We piddled ‘bout in this stupid city long enough. We still ain’t found someone to help us.”

“I know, I know…”

“Don’t seem like it concerns you too much.”

“You aren’t the only one worried about tardiness, Shepherd.” Hannah hissed. “I don’t think Mrs. LeClerk is the kind to send us packing back to Sisika--”

“You place an awful lot of faith in someone who only broke us out to assist in her revenge plan.”

“She broke us out because of crooked justice.” 

“And to be the pawns the police rain down on when things go wrong.” 

Hannah huffed and reached up to tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I’m not arguing with you right now.” 

“Then don’t. But pay me like you were asked.” 

“I’m trying! But I’m not going to let her get away with not only attacking you after we saved her, but trying to rob us!” She reached over and tried to push Thomas out of the way. When he didn’t move, she haughtily planted herself beside him and finally turned her attention back to Rose, who had a disinterested, neutral expression on her freckled face. Hannah flushed a deep red when the woman pretended to pull out a pocket watch, as if to check the time. “I should just drag you to the damned station and let them have you back!” 

“Yellin’ at her ain’t gonna fix nothin’, Miss Denson.” 

Hannah glared at Rose and Rose, predictably, glared back. A small part of her knew she was using Rose as a scapegoat for all her frustrations, though the louder, more spiteful part of her wanted to punish the street urchin for her behavior. She was a strange one; the silence was unnerving and never before had Hannah seen such hatred in one’s eyes. If looks could kill, Rose would have incinerated her and Thomas on the spot with fire and fury that would leave the bayou looking like the scorched earth of New Austin. 

Her eyes lit up, then. 

The Hellcats couldn’t spare a soul… but perhaps…?

“I don’t know much about you, Rose.” Hannah said, moving past Thomas. “And what I do know has ended up being a lie…”

Rose tensed visibly and her hand immediately went for her knife. Hannah stopped her advancement and held up her hands. 

“Easy, there. I_ just _have a proposition for you. A bargain?” Hannah waited for a reaction and received it in the form of Rose cocking an eyebrow at her. “We saved you back in Rhodes. I see that as you owing us a favor for our benevolence. I’ve also seen that you’re more than capable of fighting and we are in dire need of some assistance. So, what say you to this; come with us on our little journey. We’re headed to Tumbleweed… ever heard of it? Dusty ol’ town near the edge of New Austin?”

Rose’s statuesque visage shattered into disbelief. Hannah once again held up her hands. “I know, I know, that’s far; but we’ll pay.”

“_ We’ll _?” Thomas repeated, his irritation as clear as the day is long.

Hannah’s eye twitched. There goes her share of the jewelry bag. “_ I’ll _ pay. Ten bucks starting and, once the job we’re headed for hands over what we're due, you’ll get more. On my word--and in return, you get paid, and I don’t cart you over to the police station and hand you in for being a thieving little--”

“Miss Denson,” 

“Thomas, not now.” 

“She _just_ tried to rob us!”

“I know.”

“What makes you think she won’t do it again?”

Hannah looked Rose over, studying her. Annie trusted this street rat for a reason, and Hannah was never one to judge Annie’s judgment, and she had heard Annie mention little Rose multiple times over the past few years; she just never knew who Rose was. Well, Rose was a young woman in her early twenties, pale as the moon with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a lithe, toned body with rough, calloused hands, and blue eyes so striking that lightning could not compare to the fury they held. Rose was a woman with thick, straight black hair, messily framing her long, angular face, garbed in men’s clothing. And as far as Hannah could tell, Rose was their last ditch effort to get help they so desperately needed. 

Shooting Thomas a look, one that read ‘what choice do we have’, Hannah got him to back down. He didn’t look happy with her decision, but instead of arguing, he crossed his arms and looked away. Stepping closer once more to the other woman, Hannah stuck out her hand. “Whaddya say?”

The dog immediately stood up and moved in front of Rose, his deep brown eyes leering warily at Hannah’s hand. Rose reached down, patted her thigh twice, and Hannah watched, impressed, as it sat down at her feet. Rose, too, eyed her hand cautiously, and her eyes flickered between Hannah’s face and her palm. 

“Annie trusts you. That means I trust you, too.” Hannah lied. “She likes you for some reason. Think you can do this for her, if not for anything else?”

Still looking unconvinced, Rose hesitated. Ultimately, however, she finally shook Hannah’s hand. Her grip was light, flighty, much like the woman herself, but Hannah beamed nonetheless. She had secured a hired arm and things could, finally, get underway. Reaching into her pocket, Hannah pulled out her small jewelry bag and began twirling it around, gesturing for Thomas to follow. 

“Meet us at the train station tomorrow, around one p.m.!” She called back at Rose.

“Make it seven a.m.” Thomas growled. “We can’t waste _anymore_ time here.”

Hannah turned to him, horrified. “Did your sister happen to beat your sense out of you when you paid her a visit, by any chance?!”


	11. Chapter 11

The thick smog of Saint Denis laid heavily upon the city like a thick woolen blanket, suffocating and hot. Street lights glowed brightly, surrounded by a halo of light as they splashed washes of luminous rays upon the damp stones of the restless city streets. Though quieted, a city never truly sleeps, and lone riders as well as the agitated men and women who never seem to find rest ensure the sounds of life remain. The sun was beginning to rise, dashing the navy sky with striking hues of green and yellow. Rose sat on a curb near the train tracks with Kimber by her side, his head resting on her thigh as she crunched on an apple she’d swiped from a nearby fruit stand. 

It was a foul tasting fruit, with the ashy taste of the city coating its pale red skin and sunk deep into its yellow flesh, but she ate it nonetheless; it was this or nothing, and she had already given the last of the salted meat to Kimber. Rose was used to hunger pains and would always opt to give her share to her dog over keeping it all to herself. Not that the pains were as relentless this morning; the ten dollars from Hannah meant Rose was able to buy several food items. She and Kimber had consumed them greedily. A part of her knew Kimber was fully capable of getting his own food; he was quite adorable and she’d seen even the richest looking snobs spare him a scrap, but she simply could not justify not feeding her own pooch. Idly, Rose stroked her middle finger along Kimber’s nose as the dark brown retriever dozed in her lap.

Her thoughts wandered as she watched the city beginning to stir with more life. Cabbie drivers were beginning to trot down main street, their carriages and the horses that drew them an array of quality and care. Some of the horses looked starved, ready to keel over. Hell, some of the drivers looked that way too. People walking to work, dressed in rags or suits, smoking away at a pipe or a cigarette, began to crowd the sidewalk. A couple argued, a beggar begged, and a lone man, dressed rather darkly, was tossing a coin to a paperboy. Same smell, different shit--nothing ever changed here. 

Rubbing at her nose obnoxiously, Rose stole a glance at the large clock hanging over the door of the train station as her anxiety reached its peak. Those two would be here any minute. 

They were terrifying, but that was an emotion she would not let them see. Fear would give them the impression she was one to be pushed around, taken advantage of; fear would make her a target instead of a threat, and, oh, was Rose Bellamy a threat. Distantly, she regrets not being more aggressive with Hannah--she should have sliced her fingers when she was dangling precariously over the edge and watched her splat on the pavement below. She regrets not driving her knife, down to the hilt, into Thomas’ gut for the way he handled her precious Kimber. If she had, maybe she would’ve had thirty dollars all to herself instead of the ten--which was now down to three. 

Tethered further down the track was Rose’s horse, Eclipse. He was filthy, so dirty that the black standard-bred looked brown instead, and his mane and tail was a miserable tangle of knots and twigs. She felt guilty for the state of the horse--he meant just as much to her as Kimber did--but with Bronte’s little child soldiers getting back on her case, she had to disappear and, thus, was left with no choice but to leave Eclipse in the care of the carriage service. It was easy enough to steal him back; they didn’t watch their horses close enough, she was in and out without ever being seen, and Eclipse was rarely harnessed up due to his wild nature, but the state he was in made her sad. If only she had a horse brush…

Thirteen minutes past the hour, Rose caught sight of Hannah and Thomas walking down the street, their horses in tow. Hannah was stumbling about, her fiery locks pulled into the laziest of buns and her clothes in disarray. As they neared, Rose noticed how heavily lidded her eyes were, as though she were still trying to catch some sleep despite walking about. Thomas looked far more alert and less disheveled, though the deep purple crescents under the piercing dark eyes spun a tale of permanent exhaustion. Distantly, a train whistle could be heard faintly over the Saint Denis bustle. Rose got to her feet, squaring her shoulders and staring hard at the pair as they approached. Kimber sat protectively in front of Rose, his ears perked and eyes wide.

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as a six a.m... “ Hannah whined, rubbing her eyes. Tano followed closely behind her and Rose found herself staring at the horse, practically in awe at the sleekness of the mare’s coat. That meant Hannah had a horse brush, didn’t it? It’d be easy to swipe if she knew where the redhead kept it. 

“Magical, ain’t it?” Thomas replied, deadpanned. Rose noticed Echo was being led, instead of following like Tano was, and the feisty filly kept yanking at her bit. Caramel ears sat pinned against an alabaster mane, and the mare’s sky blue eyes flickered about wildly, akin to the unfocused eyes of an addict. Every now and then, she would toss her head at Tano, who would merely sidestep away from the hateful horse. She took notice how clean Echo was as well, and began weighing the two in her head--which one would be easier to rob?

_ She’s less alert _ , Rose thought, fixing her attention on Hannah’s swaying form. _ Less likely to notice. But where would it be? Her saddlebag? Where else would be better to keep a horse brush? Not the kindest dame around but neither am I. _ Her eyes flickered to Thomas. _ Far bigger and slower… There's a reason she was the one who chased me. But he still caught Kimber, somehow. Smarter...faster... than he looks? His horse looks like she’d make more noise. _

Hannah moaned and stopped walking, opting to instead lean against Tano and shut her eyes further. Rose watched, none too impressed by either of them, with her attention only being pulled away by the loudly approaching train. Thomas was eyeing her warily, his right hand resting blatantly upon the pistol at his hip. His cattleman--the one Rose had stolen from him--was shoved into the back of her pants. She’s bitter that he didn’t have the pistol on him when they broke her out of the caravan; it looked like a fine gun. Better than the ridiculous cattleman that jammed more often than not. Despite snagging the firearm, she still relied on her knife over it.

Thomas nudged Hannah awake and the three wordlessly paid for their tickets, boarded their horses--Thomas and Hannah both had a judgmental look when they saw Eclipse, but Rose ignored them in favor of hiding Kimber in the livestock car with the horses--and climbed onto the train. Hannah slipped and fell going up the steps, knocking her chin on the top step, and Rose snickered to herself at this misfortune.

This woke her up more and as she seated herself at a window she turned to face her companions. “I hope you know that making me wake up so early has dire consequences.” 

When neither responded, Hannah haughtily brought her legs up into the seat. “I just don’t get what changed. You seemed plenty eager to keep Mrs. LeClerk waiting until today.”

“Must’ve been somethin’ in the water.” Thomas said as he leaned against the window. 

Rose seated herself on the edge of a seat near the back, beside the exit. If things went haywire, if this wasn’t what they claimed it was, she could still escape. Rose’s eyes darted around the train as she rubbed her clammy palms on her pants, searching for the slightest indication that this was a set up. She caught Hannah looking at her and, instinctively, she glared back, her heart beginning to race. _ Do something, bitch. Do something. I’ll gut you and leave you on the tracks for the trainyard mongrels _.

Nothing. Hannah blinked at her with bleary eyes then mirrored Thomas as she, too, scooted in her seat to lean against the window. Despite the relaxed posture of both, Rose kept an iron tight grip on her knife even long after the train had pulled away from Saint Denis’s station.

* * *

* * *

The train ride to Rigg’s Station was a tense, but quiet, endeavor that left Rose feeling intensely anxious as she stepped off the narrow steps and onto the platform. They were the only ones who got off at the station, and Rose kept her fingers curled around her knife as she followed Hannah and Thomas to the livestock car. There, they retrieved their horses--and Kimber--and waited until the train pulled away before beginning the trek into the Great Plains. Rose had never been so far outside of Saint Denis and the lack of civilization made her feel small, exposed. The air was crisp, fresh, and just down the road she could hear a babbling creek as it flowed, lazily. She could hear tiny creatures chittering away in the trees and the haunting call of an elk far, far in the distance.

Though a comfortable silence settled between Thomas and Hannah as they mounted their horses and began a steady trot along the trail, Rose was on high alert. Kimber whined up at her curiously, and she clicked her tongue, urging the retriever along the path as she hopped into the saddle, choosing to instead lag behind rather than meet the other’s pace, drinking in the scenery. In her many, many years as a Saint Denis native, Rose had rarely set foot outside the city. And when she did, it was into the terrifying swamps of Lemoyne. 

The swamps was exactly why Rose never left. She hated being out there, out in the sticky, suffocating heat and the muck and grime. She hated all the mosquitoes that attacked all at once, drinking greedily, too many to slap and keep away. She hated the hiss and growl of the alligators lurking in the thick mud and just beneath the water’s surface. Rose had only fled to the swamps to avoid arrest once and she remembers vividly how terrified she was of the glowing eyes that she could see in the depths of the swamp, peering out at her, grinning madly with vicious, gnarled lips and razor sharp teeth…

But this was nothing like the swamps. The ground was firm. There were flowers and lush green grass and trees that looked nothing like the ones around Saint Denis and its God forsaken swamp. She only saw areas like this in rich people’s backyards or printed faintly on a postcard or in a newspaper. The air, too, didn’t stink of swamp gas, or death; it was clear and fresh. Eclipse snorted as they neared the stream, tossing his head and whinnying loudly, ignoring Rose’s commands to move forward. She hopped off when he began to rear. Eclipse tossed his head and tried to back away from the water and Rose felt her anger boiling when she heard Hannah chuckle.

“Don’t let him boss you around, little Rose.”

_ I’ll kill you _. Rose thought hatefully as she tugged on the reins. Hearing Annie’s affectionate name for her being used in a mocking way made her angry… irrationally so. She shot a livid glare over at Hannah, who merely kept her horse steady as Rose struggled to calm Eclipse down. Yanking the reins into one hand, Rose shot Hannah a simple rude hand gesture, one that made Hannah bristle like a cat, and she grinned wickedly as the redhead turned Tano away in a huff and spurred her to catch up to Thomas, who paid no mind to the struggle behind him.

Eventually, Rose was able to pull Eclipse across the little stream, and she urged him into a gallop to catch up to the others.

The trio had gotten off the train barely past noon and arrived at camp an hour later. Rose reined in her horse as she watched Hannah dismount--and Thomas fall out of the saddle--as they approached an older man who the two called Cripps. The grip on her knife tightened as she slid out of the saddle, creeping closer to listen in.

“Gonna have to learn t’properly dismount sooner or later, fella.”

Thomas grunted a response as he brushed the dust off the side of his body he’d fallen on.

“Do we have everything we need?” Hannah asked as she crossed her arms. “Tumbleweed is pretty damn far for Mrs. LeClerk to be sending us to help. Are things that dire down there?”

“Sheriff Freeman is a prideful fool that don’t like accepting help until his town is nearly in flames.” Cripps explained, spitting on his knife mid sentence as he continued to sharpen it. “Reminds me of an ol’ pal of mine. Phil the Crab--we called him that on account’a his shootin’ hand only had the thumb, pinkie, and pointer finger, but he always held his own in bad situations-- anyway, one time, he…”

Thomas and Hannah glanced at each other, and even from back here, Rose could tell they didn’t want to listen to this story. Kimber sat back on his haunches beside Rose and she reached down to pet behind his ears momentarily before her attention shifted off her employers. Her gaze instead settled on Tano, hitched beside the water trough, drinking greedily. She eyed the saddlebags on either side of the pale mare before her attention shifted back to Hannah. Though disinterested in Cripps’ story, she was focused on the old fool, and Rose used that to her advantage. 

Gripping Eclipse’s reins, Rose moved smoothly over to the hitching post, paying close attention to the movement in her peripherals. Thomas glanced back at her, but didn’t focus on her, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he turned back to Cripps, resting his hands on his gun belt. That was important; they were on his gun belt instead of his pistol. Lingering beside the horses, Rose moved away from Eclipse, instead approaching Tano with her hand outstretched. Her small hand gently brushed against her hindquarters, but the Andualsian didn’t even react. Behind her, she heard Eclipse nicker curiously at Echo, who responded by snorting and pinning her ears against her head and squeaking haughtily.

Fearing they were making too much noise, Rose looked over at Thomas and Hannah again. Good. Neither one was paying her any mind. 

Her hand gently stroked along Tano’s side, keeping the horse privy to her presence, before she was finally standing beside her prize; the saddlebag. Deft fingers, quick and silent, effortlessly unsnapped the buckled holding the flap closed. Keeping her steely blue gaze fixed on Hannah’s back, Rose rummaged around in the bag as quietly as she could. She recognized ammo boxes, bandages, what felt like a makeup case and a mirror, as well as loose coins and bullets. No brush. Swiftly, Rose buckled the flap back before moving around Tano to access the other saddlebag. She once again looked over at Hannah and Thomas.

_ Clear _ . She thought, unbuckling the next bag. This one mainly had fabrics, perhaps even clothes or bandannas or scarves, but she finally found what she was looking for; the horse brush. Snatching it quickly, Rose shoved the brush into the front of her pants, then untucked her shirt to hide it. Buckling the flap back, Rose moseyed nonchalantly back over to Eclipse. The first thing she did was check for any indication it was specifically Hannah’s, like her initials, or a special engraving, and was relieved to see there was none. It was _ hers _ now. 

Rose dropped the brush into Eclipse’s saddlebag, snapped her fingers at Kimber, and rejoined the others.

“--and he got blown sky high! Should’ve seen him, smokin’ and a-screamin’ as he rolled and flailed all over the rocks, tryin’ to put himself out. Me and Pete told that idiot to leave the oil barrels alone but naw, he had other plans!” Wheezing, Cripps bent near in half as he clutched at his belly, laughing until it devolved into coughing.

Despite the disinterested stance, Hannah had an amused grin on her lips. “Hope he learned a thing or two after that.” She said, her arms finally falling. “We should get going while the day is clear. Do you need help packing up, Cripps? I noticed you left our tents alone.”

Wiping away a tear, Cripps nodded. “Well, the faster we pack everything up, the faster we can stock up on provisions and water in Blackwater. You three should consider gettin’ hats--gets hot down there.” His smile faded. “We’ll have to be carryin’ quite a bit with us. Been keepin’ up to date on the go’s on around here, and seems like we can’t restock in Armadillo.” 

“Why?”

“Got a bad case of Scarlet Fever ravaging the town. Heard they just got over a case of the Yella’ Fever not too long ago, too.” He shook his head in sympathy. “Poor sods. We’ll have to avoid the town as we head for Tumbleweed.”

“All that cargo’s gonna make us a mighty big target.” Thomas replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Rose squinted at him, struggling to decipher his words through his thick southern drawl.

“I have faith in ya’lls capabilities.” Cripps said, beaming. “C’mon, enough dilly-dallying. We got shoppin’ to do and a long ride ahead of us!”

“Y’got somethin’ better for the little lady?” Rose, upon realizing Thomas was talking about her, stopped dead in her tracks. He gestured to her limply and Rose glared at it, overcome with the urge to grab his hand and twist it till his wrist snapped like a twig. She isn’t a little lady, she’s not a little rose, and she will _ not _ let that be their perception of her. They don’t deserve to see her as non threatening. “Ain’t quite comfortable sendin’ her off into the desert with just a revolver.” 

Kimber pawed at her and started whining. 

“Revolver keeps the bandidos away just fine, but gimme a moment…” As he talked, Cripps pushed through Hannah and Thomas and headed for a wagon. He pointedly ignored Kimber as he walked past Rose. “I’m sure I’ve got somethin’ in here…”

* * *

* * *

The small caravan had spent two hours in Blackwater, collecting provisions they’d need for the road ahead. Cripps had paid and signed off on five barrels of water, sealed tight and loaded into one of the wagons with the help of several ferrymen. Boxes of salted and canned food were crammed into the remaining space beside the fifth water barrel, stacked high and secured by rope. While the others were hurriedly filling up the wagons, grabbing any extra food or necessities, Rose stood across the street, brushing Eclipse. With each gentle brush, the coating of dirt and loose fur fell away, slowly but surely revealing the ebony coat beneath. In the bright midday sun, Eclipse’s coat was at its most gorgeous with an almost purple sheen breaking up the deep black of the fur. She’d only just began to untangle his tail when Cripps clapped his hands together loudly.

“Alright, I believe that’s everything!” He turned to Hannah and Thomas, then spun around as he searched for Rose. “Let’s fill them canteens up and tarry on outta here.”

After filling everyone’s canteen, Cripps climbed into the leading wagon, and waited expectantly. Though Rose and Hannah didn’t budge, Thomas eagerly hopped into the second wagon; after tethering Echo to the back, with just enough lead that she would not tangle in the wheel. Kimber trotted up to the back of Cripps’s wagon and placed his paws on the back of it, sniffing curiously. Rose watched him for a few seconds before she hopped off her horse and proceeded to help her loyal companion into the back. To her, it didn’t seem right to force Kimber to walk the blistering earth of New Austin. Besides; there was a perfect cranny right beside the food that the pooch could nestle into nicely. Rose patted him on the head lovingly before she returned to her horse and mounted up. That’s when she noticed an old, dirty poncho in the back of Thomas’s wagon. She swiped that up as well.

With Cripps leading, the small caravan slowly pulled out of their parking spot along the road and began to roll out into the dying west. As they rode, Rose stared numbly down at the rusty, dirty carbine Cripps let her borrow. It felt strange holding something so big. Truthfully, it felt strange holding a gun, period. Rose was not fond of them; the cattleman’s kickback made her wrist hurt for days after she had fired it. And that was from a lowly revolver in poor condition; what would a rifle do? Send her flying back? She would just have to watch and learn.

They had all just barely gotten out of the Great Plains when Hannah suddenly spoke up. 

“Y’know, Rose,” She said, gesturing to the carbine Rose clutched tightly in her hand. “If this job pays us well enough, you should consider something a little more deadly, a little more reliable, than that dirty ol’ thing.” Hannah proudly held up her own repeater. “Like an Evans.”

“Twice the capacity for half the accuracy.” Thomas called back, and Hannah sneered.

“I’ve yet to see how proficient you are with your Lancaster, considerin’ you just got it back. You really want to start that up again?” Hannah challenged. Thomas responded by leaning back against the cover of the wagon, shoving a handful of peanuts into his mouth, and waving her off. Hannah looked at Rose again and she tensed. “Wanna help me settle the debate?” 

Rose shrugged and that made Hannah’s playful, mischievous smile fall.

_ Ain’t interested in the bullshit you two bicker about. _ Rose thought, her eyes glancing over the horizon. The vast, scorched earth filled her with dread and she gripped the reins tighter. Not even the comfort of feeling her knife bounce against her hip in tandem with Eclipse’s gait offered any respite from the waves of anxiety. _ I should’ve told them no. There’s no guarantee I will leave this place alive--and for what? Couple of bucks I could have snatched off some dainty rich bitch? Risking Kimber’s life, my life, for these strangers… They’d be all too eager to let me die, I just know it. _

Though a part of her tried to be optimistic, Rose was beginning to regret her decision. The sun beat down on her harshly and perspiration was already beginning to soak her old button-down. Though Rose had discarded her jacket and hat back in Saint Denis, she still felt choked by the heavy cotton of her shirt, and she desperately unbuttoned some of the top buttons in hopes of cooling down. Saint Denis was a hot city, but the air there was humid. It was thick, soupy, like trying to breathe underwater. New Austin was arid, with nothing but dust and rocks for miles. Her lungs felt as dry as the parched landscape. They passed briefly under a cluster of trees, but the shade offered no comfort and relief from the furious sun. Rose swore she could feel her cheeks and arms already beginning to burn.

On top of the sun, Rose could feel Hannah’s eyes on her, boring into her with intense scrutiny. Rose glared at her angrily, her face contorting with her rage. She was ready to sink her teeth into Hannah’s neck and rip a hole in it; metaphorically of course. Hannah, seemingly undisturbed by Rose’s murderous gaze, stretched in her saddle and yawned.

“Annie told me you’re quite the talker, Rose.” Hannah said as she wiggled in her seat, trying to get comfortable. “Thomas and I ain’t special enough to hear what you’ve gotta say?”

Rose faked an obvious smile, one that dripped with malice. 

“... Right. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad to have you. I didn’t pay you ten bucks because I’m full of charity, y’know. We really do need help and I truthfully feel better about hiring you over some of the rough and tough men that advertise themselves on posters. They tend to be all bark.” 

_ That was your first mistake. _

“But Annie vouched for you… and I saw for myself what you’re capable of.” She snorted and pointed at Thomas. “You kicked him clear outta your way. That big lug has to weigh at least twice what you do, but you just…” She balanced her Evans against her shoulder so she could punch her fist into an empty hand. “... kicked him right to the ground! And don’t think I didn’t forget seeing you up on those rooftops. You weren’t my first choice but… I think you were a good pick.”

Flattery seems to be her strength. _ You’re just buttering me up to take something from me, aren’t you? My share, probably? It won’t work _. Rose stared at her, unmoved by the kind words. Without a response or any acknowledgment, Hannah frowned, then spurred her horse forward to, instead, ride side by side beside Cripps. Rose watched her go before she reached into her saddlebag, looking for her homemade grappling hook. Satisfied that it was still securely tucked away, Rose returned her attention to the road, blocking out the laughter from Cripps as he started up yet another story.

* * *

* * *

Bonnie Macfarlene was a kind, if hard, woman who let the small caravan water their horses on her property. Rose had watched over the horses, petting Eclipse and Tano, slightly fearing Echo, while Hannah thanked the rancher profusely. The long journey from Blackwater to the ranch had been excruciating, and all of the horses gulped down the water quickly. Rose had to pump fresh water into the trough with each set brought forward. Once the horses had had their fill, Kimber hopped into the water trough and refreshed himself as well, earning a smile from Rose as he sat down in the water, panting. She let him play in the water for a few moments before she patted her thigh twice, and he immediately bounded out of the trough, shook himself violently, and hopped back into the wagon. 

That had all been three hours ago. The ranch was but a distant memory as they continued on through the desert. The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky, splashing the world in an array of oranges and yellows and highlighting the dust that hung in the air, mimicking the aesthetic of fog. It was a beautiful sight, but Rose was getting anxious, afraid even, of the swiftly approaching night. Sundown meant dark, deadly things in the city, and she had no doubt it could be just as bad out here in the middle of _ fucking _ nowhere. She urged Eclipse forward so that she could check on Kimber, who was resting his chin on the stack of food and quietly dozing. Thomas glanced at her, and Rose shot him a look, but neither said anything. 

Abruptly, barely heard over the horse hooves, shouting could be heard up ahead, It made Thomas tense and seeing him uneased made Rose go on high alert. Cripps held up his hand and the caravan rolled to a stop. Hannah trotted up beside Thomas’s wagon and the two shared a curious glance before Hannah checked the chamber of her Evans and urged Tano forward to stand beside Cripps. Rose looked down at her carbine, then back at Thomas, then at the back of Cripps’ head, until she looked at Kimber. His ears were perked at her, and she held her hand at him, palm out._ Stay _.

A woman was stumbling up the road, waving them down. She was dirty, completely coated in dust and sweat. Her thick brown hair was messily tied into a braid and a tattered plantation hat sat on her head, skewed. Her skirt was shredded near the hem and her blouse, perhaps once white, was ill-fitted and dangled off her petite form. As she drew closer, Rose could see the tear streaks through the dirt on her face and she had large, doe-like eyes and a heart-shaped face. She looked pitiful. 

“Oh,” She cried as she stumbled closer. “I never thought I’d see another person, let alone four!” 

“Are you alright, ma’am?” Hannah asked, immediately lowering her gun. Rose noticed, however, that Thomas leaned over to reach under his seat and pulled out his lancaster. His unease made Rose even more agitated and she looked back over at Hannah.

“I’ve been walking for hours…” The woman whimpered. Seeing Thomas and Rose at the ready, she approached with her hands up. “M-my horse died on me back that way,” She pointed in the direction of MacFarlene’s Ranch, suddenly sounding breathless. “And I have to get back to my family in Tumbleweed. I-is there anyway you can give me a ride? Even just to Armadillo would be fine. I can catch a train, or… or borrow a horse… I just don’t think I’ll make it on my own.” 

“You’re in luck,” Hannah said, before anyone else could respond. “That’s exactly where we’re going!” 

The woman’s face lit up. 

“You got a name?”

“... Ida.”

“What do ya say, guys?” Hannah turned to face the others. “Think she can hitch a ride?” 

Cripps opened his mouth to respond, but Thomas spoke before him. “I’d say she’s shit outta luck and on her own.”

Rose watched Hannah’s face turn furious and the woman briefly looked angry, before becoming disheartened. She slumped her shoulders and kicked meekly at the dust. Hannah sounded enraged when she turned Tano around to face Thomas. “Good thing I’m asking for everyone’s opinion and not just yours. A little compassion won’t kill you, Thomas.”

“We need to _ leave _, Miss Denson.”

That’s when a shot rang out. Eclipse, startled by the gunshot, reared up suddenly and sent Rose tumbling into the dirt where she landed heavily on her head. The stallion galloped ahead, kicking up clouds of dust as more and more gunfire and shouting began to fill the quiet road. Echo roared and yanked on her reins, rearing on her hindlegs and trying to pull herself free from the wagon. Tano was the only horse that remained calm, with the only change being her ears pinned against her head. Cripps and Thomas jumped down from the top of their wagons and pressed against them as splinters of wood exploded into the air and cascaded down. Splashing water caught Cripps’ attention and he cursed as he looked under his wagon, seeing a puddle forming under it. 

“They hit one of the barrels!” He shouted. 

Disoriented but frightened, Rose scampered over to Thomas’s wagon in a bear crawl manner, where she pressed herself against the wheel. Wildly, she felt for her cattleman, but it had been knocked free from her pants and lay in the dirt on the other side of the wagon along with her carbine. Panting furiously, Rose looked over at Cripps’s wagon and once again gave Kimber the signal to stay. The woman was nowhere to be seen… until Rose caught a glimpse of her legs under the opposite side of the wagon from everyone else. Emerging from behind rocks and brush was a gaggle of men, all taunting the caravan in Spanish. Hannah petted Tano gently before she leapt off the horse and joined the others as they pressed against the wagon. 

“Del Lobos.” Cripps whispered. Hannah tilted her head in confusion, but Thomas looked furious. Rose rubbed at her temple as she shakily got to her feet, her head feeling split by the ache that raged across her skull. 

“How many?” Thomas asked.

Hannah peaked around the edge, only to be fired at. She pressed herself against the wagon tighter. 

“_ Qué estás haciendo, amigos? _” One of them shouted. “You know it’s rude to ride on someone’s road without paying a toll, don’t you?”

They all stayed silent.

“Don’t forget being so unkind to a little woman! Were you raised by animals?” 

This was followed by uproarious laughter. Rose strained to hear how many men were on the other side of the wagon, especially with Echo still frantically pulling at her reins and trying to escape. The Belgians pulling the wagons were agitated as well, their heads held high, feet stomping, and tails flicking wildly. Cripps tried to shush the horses to no avail. Sighing, he then cleared his throat. “How much is the toll?” 

“Twenty dollars for each of you.” Shouted one. Another chimed in. “And one of the wagons, for your rudeness.” 

Rose wrinkled her nose. _ Six? Are there more hiding? _

“We can do twenty… but the wagon is a no go, amigo.” Hannah snarled. 

“Then you can ‘no go’ anywhere.” 

That’s when Cripps, with a swiftness uncharacteristic of his age, stepped out from behind his wagon and started firing off. Hannah and Thomas both took the opportunity to open fire on the attacking Del Lobo’s as well. Gun smoke filled the air as the shots rang out. Hannah was the more aggressive of the three, pushing forward with her Evans, keeping the Del Lobo’s pinned alongside Cripps. One poked his head up to hopefully fire a shot, only to have his forehead opened up, sending skull fragments and brain matter all over the rock he’d been crouched behind. Rose watched them, almost in awe, before she remembered she could help. Scrambling to her feet, fixated on the battle, Rose ran over to her cattleman and carbine. Scooping the carbine up, she fumbled with the rifle as she tried to load the chamber, becoming frustrated with it as it jammed. She looked up just in time to see one of the Del Lobo’s pin Hannah to the ground, unphased by the guns pointed at him as he attempted to blow her head off. He didn’t have her on the ground long before a spray of blood signaled his demise as well. 

Over the gunfire and shouting, that’s when Rose heard it. Kimber’s yelp. Whirling around, Rose was able to catch sight of the woman, who had been hiding on the side of the wagon away from the group, beating the dog with the butt of her revolver. The retriever had his teeth sunk into her arm, refusing to let go, refusing to leave the wagon, even as she assaulted his face. Her fingers were stuck under the ropes securing the food crate down. All Rose saw, then, was red. With fast, quiet strides, she approached the front wagon, wielding her carbine like a bat. The woman got one more blow upon Kimber’s head before Rose suddenly, viciously, cracked her over the head with the carbine. She lost interest in helping the group fight off the attackers. All that mattered now was Kimber.

Stumbling from the blow, Kimber released the woman’s arm as she cried out and held her head, falling into the dirt. Hot, boiling rage bubbled dangerously in Rose’s belly and her chest as she advanced on the woman, ready to beat her brains out with the carbine. Kimber whimpered, a sound that did not go unnoticed by Rose, and she looked at him. Blood poured from his nose and his left eye was squinting and the poor cur was shaking. This woman was a threat, she was a danger, and she had hurt Kimber and scared off Eclipse. The anger reached its boiling point as she stroked a thumb lovingly under Kimber’s nose, trying to wipe away the blood. Another trickle came out. Rose then reared back and kicked the woman across the jaw, sending her limply to the ground, where she whimpered and tried to crawl away.

_ Should’ve shot you on sight. _ Rose thought hatefully as the woman held her hands up in surrender. She didn’t even hear the others as they shouted victoriously as the remaining Del Lobo’s ran off. All she heard was Kimber’s pained whimpers and the ringing in her ears. The woman was speaking, no doubt begging for her life, but she was the cause. She was the catalyst to this attack. She did not get to go _ free _ . She doesn’t _ get _to live. Unsheathing her knife, Rose offered no forgiveness as she grabbed the frightened woman by her hair and dragged her away from the wagons and onto the side of the road. She was going to bleed her like a pig and leave her here like trash. The woman was crying, spitting off some spiel that Rose didn’t care to hear, didn’t want to decipher. She needed to die. She did this.

Just as Rose placed her knife at the woman’s throat, the others came back. Her furious, wild gaze turned to them, and she found sick pleasure in the way their eyes were widened as they stood rooted in place, horrified. 

“She’s unarmed, Rose…” Hannah whispered. “Her shitty little rats have fled. Let her go.” 

_ I’ll let her go... _ Rose thought. The tip of her knife dug into the woman’s throat, sending a rivulet of blood trickling down to her collarbone. _ Go straight to hell _. 

“They made me do it!” The woman cried. “They threatened to do awful things to me if I didn’t help them stop wagons! Please, don’t do this, I really do have family in Tumbleweed! A little girl, she’s only eight! My infant son! Please!”

_ Convenient. Who’s watchin’ ‘em while you’re out here killin’ good folks out on the road? _

“Just… let her go.” Rose’s eyes flicked to Thomas when he spoke. He had his hands out, just like Hannah did, the pair of them trying to calm her as if they were easing down a horse. “No one else has to die. The rest ran. We can let her go.”

_ Let her go so she and the others can recuperate and hop right back into this bullshit? _

She only sees red. She only feels the white hot anger that prickles her skin, simmering her insides. There is no sorrow or compassion for the groveling woman as she closes her eyes and openly sobs. Thomas and Hannah’s pleas fall on deaf, defiant, ruthless ears, that do not seek to let an accessory to robbery and perhaps even murder go free. Without breaking eye contact with Hannah, and then Thomas, Rose callously drives her knife into the woman’s throat, unphased as the screams become helpless gurgles. With one swift and unkind movement, Rose yanks the woman’s head back, exposing her throat, and the knife slices cleanly across the meaty flesh of her neck with a sharp, jerking movement. Blood spurts onto Rose’s hand slightly before she tosses the woman, who was still alive, to the side. She writhed, convulsing. Never once did she break eye contact, and she glared at them, challenging them, until the woman stilled.

Rose flicked her bangs out of her face with a quick twitch of her head. _ No mercy for those who target the downtrodden. And since you’s guys are wanted criminals, he’s an old man, and I am a _ **little lady** _ , I say we’re as downtrodden as it gets. _

  
  


* * *

* * *

True to his word, the camp spot Cripps had them stop at was not far outside of Tumbleweed. Wordlessly, the four had worked together to set up camp. Cripps explained he would wait here and guard their stuff whilst the three of them made the rest of the trip on horseback. Tumbleweed was only a two hour ride from their camp spot, he claimed. Thomas assisted as best he could with preparing the stew, but his mind was a scramble of horror and confusion. Rose’s absolutely feral display of violent aggression and disregard for human life sent him back to the swamps, when he and Hannah had advanced on a Lemoyne Raider hideout. Specifically, the part where he stumbled upon a man dying in the muck, suffering from a gut shot, and he hadn’t been able to put the man out of his misery. Rose had gladly left the woman to suffer her last moments in the dirt, gasping for breath, swallowing dust and blood until she succumbed to her wound. And what could they do, except continue on? 

Hannah had found a guitar in the back of one of the wagons and she sat beside the fire, strumming it idly. Thomas watched her, transfixed on the way her fingers danced across the strings, the way her brow furrowed, before his attention was dragged over to Rose. She sat on the outskirts of the camp, leaning against a crate, still tending to her dog. Eclipse had been found further down the road and the stallion was hitched beside Tano. Echo was chomping on the hay obnoxiously and would, occasionally, swing her hindquarters towards the other two horses when they tried to eat some as well. Everyone was acting like it was normal, that everything was fine. But Thomas would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of sleeping tonight.

Yet, at the same time, they hired her for exactly that reason. They needed help down here and she offered it. But, what good was it to slit the woman’s throat, after she’d been unarmed and all her allies had fled? What good did do, except assert that Rose would do whatever she deemed necessary for her survival? Thomas had seen the wounds on Kimber’s head and the way his nose was bleeding, and he severely doubted that the woman’s death was out of necessity. It was a retaliation. The stew smelled heavenly, a rich blend of herbs and spice and delightfully meaty, and he took a bowl, but his appetite was null. Sitting down at the fire, across from Hannah, Thomas continued to stare into the flames, his thumb running along the edge of the bowl hard. 

It wasn’t until he became framed that Thomas had ever killed anyone. Sure, he had his guns, but they were for show, mostly. If he himself, what with his tall and imposing frame, didn’t frighten off goat rustlers coming to steal his livestock, then a few warning shots in the air did the trick. And sure, people feared him regardless thanks to his size and the scars that marr the right side of his face, but for the most part, they let him be and would just avoid him. He never needed to kill. But Thomas kept replaying the events over in his head. How Clinton Arnsdale was ready to have innocent men die over stuff,_ things _. Knick-knacks and picture collections. How he and Hannah had shot up what could have been just hired arms, just meant to look scary, now nothing but rotting corpses in the ground. He couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the Lemoyne Raider camp. This world was cruel and unkind, and he was no stranger to that fact, but he’d gotten by just fine without killing anyone. And now, suddenly, he had multiple kills under his belt. 

His thoughts shifted, then, to Mama Shepherd, and her living conditions. The lost lives of these random people did not compare to the flashes of seeing his mother, locked away like an unspeakable mistake, in the attic of his sister’s house. She’d lost so much weight, she looked so tired, so lonely and sad… the sin of murder would just have to be one Thomas would have to _ get over _. He’d just... have to get over it. They were nobodies. They didn’t matter. They knew what they were getting into when they chose their lives. Or perhaps, they were forced into it, just like he was…. But. 

Feelings didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting his house back and getting mama out of Ginny’s gilded cage. But between them, the random people who died since his breakout, and Mama Shepherd, his option was clear, and he’d have to ** _get over it_ ** . He couldn’t let it affect him. He simply couldn’t. Not when he needed money and not when people needing _ killing _ was the only job he could hold as a wrongly wanted man.

His stew bowl falling out of his lap and clattering loudly to the ground jolted him out of his introspective stupor. Hannah’s strumming stopped and she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. Thomas, still holding the spoon for the stew, muttered an unintelligible apology as he scooped up the stew bowl and stood quickly to drop it off at the wash basin. Rethinking, knowing he should eat, he instead grabbed a rag and cleaned the bowl, ridding it of residue and dirt. Once he was satisfied with its cleanliness, he returned to the stew pot. Though he stirred it several times, he didn’t scoop out any of its contents, once again consumed by his thoughts.

Rose may never be a friend, but someone _ that _ violent is better suited on their side than the opposing one. She was terrifying. Hannah had a mean look, a resting bitch face that she could hide with a well acted smile, but Rose was a different level of mean. She was always watching, ever observant, and her silence was ghastly, turning her into an enigma, a hellish ghoul that found better companionship in a blade over any human. Thomas had already decided to not bother with sleep, but he could play nice. He could do his best to make Rose understand he was no threat, right? Pressing his tongue against his cheek in thought, Thomas picked up another bowl and quietly filled both bowls to the brim. Leaving the spoon shoved into one, he stole a quick glance at Rose, and at Hannah, before he walked across the camp over to the aforementioned.

Just as he anticipated, Rose spun around, her knife catching the light of the fire and gleaming as she held it tightly in a white knuckle grasp. Her murderous eyes did not soften upon seeing Thomas, but Kimber wagged his tail weakly in greeting. Thomas literally felt like he was offering food to a wild animal. But, he stood firm, and waited for Rose to relax before he stepped closer and held the bowl out to her. Once she took it, and held his gaze long enough, Thomas looked at her, and then at the bowl, and then at Kimber, before looking back at her. Her brows scrunched before she nodded slowly. Kimber eagerly began chomping down into the bowl before Thomas had even set it down on the ground, whimpering from how fast and greedily he was eating, and seemingly content and calmed by her faithful dog’s reaction, Rose, too, began to eat. In a similar fashion. She’d almost downed the entire bowl before Thomas even turned to leave.

As he was rejoining Hannah by the fire, she spoke up. “How’d you know?”

Plopping unceremoniously onto the ground, Thomas leaned back against the log behind him and fished out his whittling knife and a block of wood from the satchel he had leaned against the seat. He held the block in his hand and weighed it, wondering what he could turn it into. “Know what?” 

Hannah had her arms resting on the side of the guitar and her head on her arms. Her dark brown eyes were fixed on the flames. “That that woman couldn’t be trusted…”

When Thomas didn’t answer, she unfolded her arms and started strumming and trying to tune the old instrument. “I guess we all got secrets. But I just… don’t get how you knew.”

Thomas studied her face in silence, wondering if he should be honest. He knew Hannah wasn’t being honest with him--those people she’d introduced to him didn’t seem like they were the scholarly, religious type. Mother Marie in particular seemed like the most unlikely to him. Religion was a diverse and confusing subject, but Marie seemed far too young to be gifted the title of Mother. Even more so, she did not carry herself like a woman of the church, but instead defiant. She had a hard look that a life with the church simply would not bestow upon her. The same went with the other two; they didn’t look like bordering school rejects… they looked like scummy Saint Denis criminals. One of them actually was, considering she’d robbed him blind. 

Kimber trotted by while Thomas was deciding if it was worth it to tell Hannah the truth. Rose crept by, almost unseen, definitely unheard, and he was only privy to her existence when he heard the ladle in the stew pot again. Thomas watched them both, when he got the idea to try and whittle the dog. He studied the shape of Kimber for several heartbeats before he picked up his knife and began to make little grooves around the block of wood. Only then did he finally have an answer for Hannah. 

_ The truth will set you free, right? _

“I used to steal wagons in the Heartlands.” 

“You did not.”

“No, I did.” Once he was satisfied with the vague cuts in the wood, he started peeling them away with the knife. “My mother and I… we hit hard times. And I struggled to get work. So I started robbing people at the crossroads. It started out with just me fakin’ needin’ help, but…” _ Then it turned to armed robbery. _ “... Anyway. The gal said she lost her horse back in the direction we’d just came from. I used that tactic a lot to convince drivers to pull over and drop their guard… most people aren’t going to question someone needin’ help, even if there was evidence to _ against _their claims.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed, as if she was thinking, before they suddenly shot up almost to her hairline and she slapped her palm against her forehead. “There was no dead horse on the road!”

“We were also close to MacFarlene’s. If she really needed help, she coulda backtracked.”

“I didn’t even… damn, alright, credit given where it’s due.” Hannah leaned the guitar against the chair beside her as she jumped to her feet and eagerly approached the stew pot. “You said you _ used _to rob… don’t do it much these days?” 

Much to Thomas’s surprise, Rose nestled down beside the fire with them. Kimber wagged and wiggled excitedly until Rose set down his bowl on the ground. He hungrily and noisily lapped it up. In the light of the fire, he could make out the small wounds the poor hound had earned from earlier. But, his eye was no longer swollen, and his nose had stopped bleeding, and he seemed in high spirits. Thomas studied him a little further before beginning to chip away at his wood block again. “I only started out of necessity. Once we weren’t struggling so bad anymore I stopped.” 

“Surprised no one took you in.” Hannah reclaimed her spot and slurped curiously at the stew. “Lawmen really couldn’t identify, big, broad, and scarred?” 

He jerked the knife across the wood block. “Nah. Wore a mask and big… dumb hat.” He chuckled. “Also posed as a… uh… O’Driscoll.” 

Hannah deadpanned at him. 

Rose stared at them both, shoving large chunks of meat into her mouth without chewing properly. She looked way less threatening with chipmunk cheeks full of vegetables and beef.

“No, you didn’t…”

“I did.” 

Hannah sneered. “Give us your best Irish accent.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon! You had to be convincing if people believed you were an O’Driscoll!” 

He shook his head and Hannah threw her hands up in defeat. “Absolutely unbelievable. Have you ever bitten off more than you could chew with your robberies?” 

His smile faded, then. Of course he had. There was the time when he stopped a wagon and stole almost forty dollars from a family of four. Wife, husband, and twin toddlers. Nobody got hurt, but the kids were crying, and the father had begged him not to take all they had left after his brother died in Annesburg from a mine cave-in. There was the man that got physical with him, rightfully so, and Thomas had beat him unconscious. And he can’t forget his worst one. When he’d stopped a wagon, driven by a single man, and all he had was a crate of antibiotics. That man had begged, and begged, and begged Thomas to leave the crate, that he needed it, and that he could have all of his money and jewelry if he just left the medicine. In the end, Thomas took everything from him. Not just his valuables, but the entire wagon, as well as the medicine. He and Mama Shepherd were at their lowest. That man’s face, twisted by sorrow and screaming, crying, wriggling helplessly on the ground, still haunts Thomas’s dreams during the dark winter months. It wasn’t long after that that he stopped stealing.

“Almost constantly.” He murmured, his whittling slowing to a halt. He then looked over at Rose. “If we’re trading questions, I’d like to know who Annie is. You both know her, but don’t know each other?” 

Hannah looked offended that Annie was brought up, but Rose lit up like the 4th of July. 

“She’s… just an old friend.” Hannah replied, spooning up more stew. “I’ve known her almost my entire life.” 

Rose pointed at her bowl. Thomas looked back at her and watched as Rose tapped her bowl excitedly, a wide smile across her lips. Realizing Thomas wouldn’t understand, and perhaps even frustrated, she set her bowl down. Using her finger, Rose leaned forward and wrote in the dirt; _ Soup Kitchen _. 

Hannah read it and, while chewing the meat, nodded solemnly. “I believe it. Annie volunteers at the soup kitchen when she’s not on the clock or at church.” 

“She sounds like a fine lady.”

That was when, for the first time since meeting her, Thomas and Hannah got to hear Rose speak. It was a soft, whispery voice, one that did not suit its owner at all. It came out breathy, strained, almost too quiet to hear. On top of all that, it was also incredibly hoarse, no doubt from lack of use. And as she spoke, Rose even placed her hand on her chest, pressed against her sternum, as if the mere act of speaking caused her physical pain. Despite this, she had the softest smile on her lips. “An… nie. He-helped me. When… no… one… else… wanted. To.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small disclaimer: thomas is meant to have an extremely thick southern drawl. however, typing it out phonetically is an eyesore.


	12. Chapter 12

Three extremely important things had been learned last night. One, Rose Bellamy was a literal cutthroat, no mercy fighter. She used underhanded tactics and straight aggression to get things done. Sparing anyone was leaving someone alive to retaliate. Two, she _ could _speak, but simply chose not to. Thomas and Hannah learned that, in order to communicate properly with Rose, they needed to ask yes or no questions, or to read her opinion off a piece of paper; that’s what Annie did, after all. Lastly, Hannah was faced with the reality that big city street smarts meant nothing when the streets are dirt and civilization is crumbling to both unkind weather and ruthless outlaws. Her keen eye was sharp, she could spot malicious intent from a dame needing help crossing the road in the city, but out here, it was dulled to nothing. She truly thought that woman needed help; she looked the part. Most people don’t even bother trying to look distressed! 

But as they finally rode into the dying town of Tumbleweed, and Hannah got a good look at the denizens, she understood just fine why that woman had been so convincing. Nearly everyone in the town was blistered by the sun. Many faces were beet red, pooling with sweat, with parts of their foreheads bubbled and popped. Peeling skin was present on every tired, dusty face, and many were darkly tanned as well and very few had lips that weren’t chapped. The heat made her regret not pulling her thick red locks into a braid, like Rose had done with her hair. Why anyone would willingly live this far out was lost to a city girl like Hannah Denson, but she kept her head high as the trio pulled up beside the Sheriff's station. Cripps had warned them all that Sheriff Freeman was a clown with a star badge and it had her worried about the kind of work that they had in store for them. 

It also had her worried about their role in Jessica LeClerk’s plot. What good did it do the widow to send two wanted criminals across the map, helping down-on-their-luck Sheriffs? Was it a test, to challenge their loyalty right out of the gates? Hannah, initially, had been fine with Horley’s insistence that they go and play deputy to a bunch of incompetent men in positions of power. But the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed that LeClerk and her henchman would send two Sisika State Penitentiary Escapees straight into the snapping jaws of the law. Sure, they hadn’t been recognized yet… but just how earnest was Mrs. LeClerk about getting their names cleared? How much of her pretty words rang true and which ones merely mimicked the hopeful tune? If they risked her ire, tried her patience, would she be all too happy to send them back behind bars, locked in chains? Hannah wanted to believe in Jessica’s goodness. But after that ambush, she just wasn’t sure of her opinion anymore.

Sliding off Tano, Hannah hitched the mare up beside the station and patted her forehead gently. Frowning at the dust that had collected on her beloved horse, Hannah reached into her saddlebag to quickly give the mare a once over, but was surprised to find it missing. Confused, Hannah lifted the flap up further and dug around in the bag, and did the same on the other side, but the brush was gone. Biting her lip, Hannah turned to her companions. Rose had her carbine out and was holding it out to Thomas who was doing his best to give a quick explanation on how to reload, point, and fire the pitiful rifle. Though Rose looked attentive and nodded, she still eyed the carbine like it was a rattlesnake poised to strike. Even from here, Hannah could see her unsure grip and the confusion that furrowed her brow. The lost brush would have to wait.

They had a sheriff to assist. 

* * *

* * *

Freeman’s ineptitude was a glaring, ugly stain on Tumbleweed’s already tarnished name. He was a prideful, arrogant man, who regarded the trio with a sharp, judgmental eye. Thomas stood back in the shadows, beside the bars of the cell, and watched Hannah attempt to flatter the sheriff. As charming as she could be, and despite the honest, honeyed truth of her words, Freeman was uninterested in their assistance. Still, Hannah persisted, and still, Freeman refused, until an hour had passed. An hour of nothing but the two bickering back and forth. Rose had lost interest in the conversation long ago and started peeling away the rusted coating of the cell bars and flicking them away with a disinterested frown. Thomas watched her, though his attention was focused elsewhere.

Last night, after Rose and Hannah had gone to bed, money had been all that was on his mind after he’d ensured Rose wasn’t going to wake and kill them all. She curled up with her dog and fell asleep without issue in the back of one of the empty wagons. Cripps stayed awake with him for a few hours to give him whittling tips, but he, too, soon turned in for the night. Though he was on high alert at the slightest sound, from Hannah tossing in her bedroll and rustling her tent to the distant hooting of an owl, it didn’t stop his thoughts from spiralling. While in Saint Denis, he’d done the math over and over, calculating just how much he’d need to buy his foreclosed home back from the bank. And he found himself doing it again as he stood watch, whittling a little dog out of his block of wood. Crude, but as the night went on, one could tell it was meant to be a canine, and he was happy about it. Happiness that was fleeting and overshadowed by the crushing worry of debt and homelessness.

He meant to show Rose the dog; Kimber had inspired it, after all. 

But the foreclosure took over his thoughts once more during the ride to Tumbleweed. Roughly, he’d need $2,500 to buy back his home--and that was just to get it back in his name. He still had to make payments on it and wipe away the debt that he had accumulated. As of right now, after his time in Saint Denis and spending money on those stupid clothes and that atrocious hat, as well as the medical and stable fees for poor Echo, he was down to $6. After buying sugar cubes, carrots, and beets for the horse, to hopefully bond more with her and earn her trust, he only had $3.56 left. How in the world was he ever going to get the money to pay it off and _ go home _?

Hannah and Sheriff Freeman’s incessant arguing, as well as Thomas’s tiresome jitters, was brought to a screeching halt when a man barged into the office. He was heavier set, his face a bright red and covered in perspiration, and he was wearing a striped vest with a blue jacket and white shirt. The red satin tie had come undone and was flailing against his chest wildly with each movement. He had greyed hair and mutton chops, which grew long and unkempt and scraggly, and crust coated the sides of his mouth. He was panting, frantic, seemingly unaware of the others in the room, as he nearly shoved Hannah out of the way--had she not already stumbled away from the strange old fool the second she laid her eyes on him. He looked wealthy, extremely so, especially in comparison to the rest of the town. Rose had pulled her knife the second the man came rushing in, and Thomas and Hannah shared an equally concerned glance before their attention returned to the stranger. 

“Sheriff, oh, sheriff, you gotta help me!” He shouted. His voice was hoarse, shaking from panic and exertion. He placed a gloved hand on his chest. “Please! You got to help me!” 

Sheriff Freeman’s lack of concern for the fretful man made Thomas shift uncomfortably against the bars. His statuesque face did not react to the loud intrusion and he leveled cold, disinterested eyes at the frightened man, who was panting so heavily the small building was beginning to stink of his breath. “How about you take it easy and tell me your name and your problem?”

“M-my name is Terrence O’Dowd and a gang of outlaws took my wife!” He shouted, pounding the table with an open hand. “They took her and ran off with her and only the Almighty knows what they may do to her, you’ve got to help me!” 

“Where’d they take her to?” Freeman asked. 

“Up past Armadillo, near Twin Rocks. Please! You’ve got to do something!”

“I can’t help you, mister, that’s way out of my jurisdiction. My job,” As he said it, Sheriff Freeman placed a hand on his chest. “Is to stop people from getting shot on these streets, you know that.”

“_ What _?” Thomas looked over at Hannah, who looked angered, offended even, at Sheriff Freeman’s nonchalant attitude regarding the kidnapping. Neither man acknowledged her and she looked at Rose, then at Thomas, her bright red lips curling into a disgusted snarl as she gestured at the two other men, bewildered.

“But she’s my wife!” Terrence whimpered, overwrought with concern. “She’s my goddamn wife! They’ll do terrible things to her, you’ve got to help me!”

That was when Sheriff Freeman’s dark eyes shifted back over to the group. His left eye twitched, briefly, as if his sun fried brain finally lit up with an idea. Rose’s grip on her knife had not lessened. She was holding it tighter, and her relaxed posture had dissolved into one suited for battle. Thomas cleared his throat quietly and her head snapped to face him. He motioned and mouthed for her to put the knife away, a silent plea that she haughtily complied to. Without her knife, Rose instead pulled her poncho closed around her, glaring furiously at Freeman and Terrence O’Dowd. 

Freeman held his hand out to them. “Maybe these people can help you?”

Thomas snorted and looked away as Terrence turned around to look at them. Despite his claims of worry that plagued his heart with dark images of what the gang could possibly be doing to his wife, he didn’t have a single tear welling in his eyes. “Them?”

“Sure, why not?” Freeman went on. “Most lost and kidnapped folks are found by bounty hunters and such like.” 

Before any of them could argue that none of them were bounty hunters, Terrence turned hopeful eyes upon them. “Will you help? I’ll pay… handsomely.”

Hannah nodded eagerly. “You don’t even gotta pay, we’ll do it--”

The past two times, Thomas had set back and let Hannah do the talking. He was, after all, scary looking, and it was their agreement that he sit back and ** _be_ ** scary. It got the job done, and many people’s assumptions meant they were more focused on him when push came to shove, but Hannah also settled for crumbs. Chief Dunbar had sent just the two of them into a canyon full of bloodthirsty thieves and murderers and they’d only gotten five dollars each. Five dollars didn’t properly pay for the soreness Thomas felt for carrying a man all the way through the canyon while also dodging and avoiding rapid gunfire. Arnsdale had paid only four dollars, despite the hell that came with tracking down Crawfish, who didn’t even have the knick-knacks he claimed were stolen. If they were going after another band of filthy, violent outlaws, Thomas wasn’t doing it for saloon grub prices.

“How much?” Thomas growled, cutting Hannah off. She glared at him. 

“I… uh… oh, I don’t know. Does ten each sound fair?” 

“Yes, sounds fair, we--” 

“Naw, no way.” Thomas pushed himself off the bars. “I ain’t ‘bout to go ridin’ back through the goddamn desert, up to Twin Rocks, just to take on a band of bad people that are apt to leave us riddled with bullets, rotting in the goddamned sun, for just_ ten bucks _.”

“We’ve done it before, Thomas, it’s nothing we can’t handle.” Hannah shot back. 

“Ain’t petty thieves in these parts. These people’ll kill ya. You really gonna agree to another five hour ride just to arrive and save a corpse?”

“You don’t know she’s dead yet!”

“And you don’t know she’s alive!”

“Fifteen, then?” Terrence offered, his hands folding over each other. 

“Make it thirty.” Thomas snapped, ignoring Hannah’s livid eyes. Rose’s face lit up with a devilish grin and she nodded in agreement. 

“We are not gambling with his wife’s life!” Hannah said. 

“So it means we risk ours as _ you _ see fit?!” 

“Thirty, yes, I can do thirty.” Terrence replied, holding his hands up now. “Please, don’t argue, I’ll pay it! It’s completely understandable! But will you help me? _ Please _?” 

Without breaking eye contact with each other, Thomas and Hannah both nodded. 

“Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful… Allison is the sweetest girl.” He started heading for the door and started adjusting and fixing his tie. “She’s quite a bit younger than me, you’ll see… but, better that way for wives, I-I’ve found. Oh, thank you, thank you, _ thank you _.” 

If Hannah wasn’t already spitting fire, that single line from Mr.O’Dowd had her roaring flames out of every hole in her face. She shoved her way past Thomas and Rose and was the first out the door as the ridiculous old coot opened it. Rose bowed mockingly, her hand gesturing to the door, and Thomas sneered at her as he followed after Hannah. Before the door shut behind them, one more gracious thank you was shouted, and with a tense silence, the three mounted up, and rode towards Twin Rocks. Not a word was spoken between them as they galloped along the twisting, barren trails that littered the rocky, parched landscape, sending clouds of dust high into the air. The horses were worked hard, pushed to their limits, as the three hurried to get to the outlaw stronghold. 

Thomas could feel the anger radiating off of Hannah, but he forced himself to ignore it. Let her be angry; he needed money. She’s out of her element here in New Austin and Thomas wasn’t about to risk his life and suffer a heat stroke for someone else for a measly ten dollars. Besides, the thirty from Terrence O’Dowd would set him back on the right track to recovering his home, and he cared more about that than he did Hannah’s anger. Rose, for the most part, seemed interested in the extra money as well, and he considered that an accomplishment. Perhaps, once they rescued this man’s poor wife, Thomas would remember to show her the whittled dog. 

Twin Rocks sat far on the outskirts of Armadillo, near the cliff’s that plateau into Hennigan’s Stead. True to its name, two large boulders stand tall, framing two off-white adobe’s bordered by a _ once _ white half-wall fence. The trio dismounted their horses several meters away, tucked away in the brush in favor of creeping closer on foot, lest they alert the men standing on guard duty before they had a chance to get in position. Together, they weaved between the shrubs and the rocks, moving together as a unit to find the best possible spot to attack. Behind a jumble of rocks is where they chose to hide, though being the biggest of the three, Thomas had to get down completely on his belly in order to be hidden properly. He jolted when Rose suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to face her. She pointed at the stronghold, held up all ten of her fingers, then pointed at the two rocks and held up two. Thomas nodded, then passed the information onto Hannah. 

“Ms. Bellamy counted ten men on the ground and two lookouts on the rocks.”

“Any sign of Mrs. O’Dowd though?” Hannah hissed. He shook his head and her face scrunched. 

“Bit worrisome to not hear a kidnapped woman hollerin’ like a beat dog.” Thomas replied. Rose, unappreciative of the metaphor, spat into the dirt. “... Sorry.”

Hannah slowly peeked over the pile of rocks they were crouched behind. “Did that crusty old fart mention anything about a ransom?” 

“Nope.” _ No ransom or story about how they got her… no screaming from the buildings. Mighty fishy _.

“Did we walk right into a trap?” 

Rose huffed boorishly at that. 

“What’s our plan?” Thomas asked. In response, Rose unsheathed her knife and he immediately shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” Hannah asked, ducking her head back down. “Sneaking around worked pretty well at Limpany.” 

“Ayuh, until it didn’t. Limpany also didn’t have two lookouts high up on giant rocks.”

Hannah thinned her lips, her fingers drumming on the rock in front of her as she stared at Thomas. Unnerved by the harsh eye contact, Thomas glanced away and instead focused on the horizon, where the bright blue sky kissed the red and yellow land of New Austin. The clear day was a good sign; it meant they didn’t have to worry about any sand storms. Hannah tapped the top of his head and he looked back at her. 

“What if I pretend to be lost?” She asked. As she spoke, she picked up a handful of dirt and patted it all over her legs in an attempt to look rugged and dirty. “I could walk right up to the stronghold and you and Rose can start taking them out from the back one by one.”

“Ain’t comfortable having you go out in the open. They might just take you down without a second thought.”

“I don’t see you coming up with anything.”

“I’m trying.” Thomas snapped. 

“Thirty bucks is that tantalizing, huh?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Y’got such a problem with it, then you can give ten of your share to me and Miss Bellamy, since you hate the idea of gettin’ adequately paid so much.”

“I don’t! It’s just--that wasn’t a good time to discuss payroll.”

“How about we all just go in the back? They’re all concentrated towards the front and around the middle. Maybe we can even get on top of those buildings?”

Rose shook her head, fed up with their lack of action and the bickering. Neither Thomas or Hannah was fast enough to grab for her when she stood up and darted away from their hiding spot. Cursing under his breath, Thomas removed his bolt action from his shoulder and got to his knees. Hannah mirrored his actions, but instead of setting up behind the rock, she took off after Rose, her Evans drawn. The first shot rang out, startling a flock of vultures into the air that had been nesting nearby, and Thomas watched as the recoil from the rifle sent Rose on her ass. Whoever she was aiming at would survive another twenty minutes, because the damned fool had missed her shot. She held her shoulder, wincing, and began to flail wildly when Hannah grabbed her up by her arm and dragged her behind one of the boulders. The outlaws, alerted, armed themselves and began to scout near the source of the shot. 

_ Reckless and ruthless; what a charming combo. _

Checking the chamber of his bolt action, Thomas sighed and pressed his forehead against the rock he was hiding behind. It was for mama. All of this was for mama. He needed to buy back home and get her out. Blood money was going to be his_ only _ payment. Hearing another shot fired, Thomas immediately recollected himself and took aim at one of the lookouts. The ringing in his ears was the only thing muffling the cries of the guard as the bullet shredded his lower calf, sending the man sprawling onto the rock. He looked at Hannah and Rose and waited for Hannah to begin shooting before he took down another, this time one that was firing from the top of the buildings. He meant to hit his shoulder, just to injure and disarm, but he missed his mark, and Thomas watched the man grab at his neck as blood squirted through the gaps in his fingers. That man tumbled over the side. _ Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Just don’t fucking think about it. _

Rose followed Hannah to the front of the stronghold, Thomas lost sight of the two. The only indication he had that they were alright was the crackling boom of Hannah’s Evans as she popped off several shots, and four men stumbled back and fell to the ground, struck directly. The rest of the men were all shouting, barking orders at each other. They seemed far too disorderly to be capable of successfully pulling off a kidnapping. The choked sound of Rose’s filthy, rusty carbine joined the chorus of gunfire and shouting. The light, pale dirt was splashed with crimson washes across the courtyard as the three pushed in. Hannah slung her Evans onto her shoulder and charged in with her twin schofields, ready to flush out any remaining outlaws. One stood up to fire at her, hidden well from her by a pile of crates, and Thomas fired into his back. The man stumbled forward, then jerked violently to the side, a spray of blood accompanying Rose’s first successful head shot. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud as Hannah dove behind cover near a wagon.

The next thing Thomas knew, he was on his back. One of the outlaws, drawn by his solo gunfire, had crept over to his hiding spot, and was now on top of him. A sharp, gilded knife was clutched tightly in the man’s fist, and his bright green eyes were wild with fury. Snarling like a rabid beast, the outlaw pushed all his weight down onto the knee resting on Thomas’s chest and into the hand holding the knife as he attempted to drive the gaudy blade into his skull. Struggling to keep the blade away from his face, Thomas used both hands to hold the knife away as he tried to thrash and wriggle free, to get out from under the murderous outlaw who was hissing from the struggle, causing spittle to fly and land on Thomas’s face with every haggard breath. A few seconds ticked by as the two men struggled, the knife growing ever closer to its destination, before the man, presumptuous that he was getting the upper hand, lifted himself off of Thomas just enough to add more weight to pushing the knife down. The smallest of cuts was kissed along Thomas’s brow as the knife barely pricked his skin before he used the extra room to buck the man forward and off balance. 

Using his upper body strength, Thomas threw the man into the dirt beside him and quickly got to his feet. His back stung from the numerous scratches he’d earned when the outlaw had tackled onto the rocky ground. Wasting no time, he kicked the ornate knife away from his attacker, who grabbed for it wildly. Disarmed, and enraged by this, the man lashed out, kicking Thomas’s leg out from under him as hard as he could. It was a short lived victory. Thomas stumbled, but regained his footing faster than the man could get up, and he tackled him back to the ground. As hard as he could, Thomas reared back and punched the outlaw in the face. The first few times, the man flailed and fought back, trying to squirm free and land blows of his own. He succeeded only in a pathetic jab that, yes, made Thomas’s nose bleed, but it was a trickle in comparison to the rushing cascade that the outlaw sported. And Thomas didn’t let up. Again and again, he drove his fist into the man’s lips and nose, across his brow and cheek bones, refusing to let up until the face was nothing but a bloated mess of blood and swollen flesh. His knuckles split open, skinned and bruised, before Thomas shoved the limp body away from him. 

If he learned anything valuable in Sisika, it was how to fight. Even hardened criminals learn to leave you alone if you bust their faces open on iron bars.

Wiping his nose with the back of his trembling, bloodied hand, Thomas reclaimed his bolt action, scooped up the knife--it could fetch a nice price at a fence, given all the gold in its hilt--and focused on calming his breathing and finding Hannah and Rose. Twin Rocks had become eerily quiet, but he was still careful to not draw any attention to himself as he headed for one of the boulders where he had last seen the women disappear behind. There he found Rose, idly swinging her knife as she pinched it between her pointer finger and thumb, looking alert as ever. Her vigilant gaze snapped to him and her dark brows furrowed. She used her free hand to put a finger under her nostril, then dragged it down over her lips and to her chin. Thomas once again wiped his nose and came away with a fresh streak of blood across his wrist.

“I’m aware.” 

Rose winced as she also stared at his knuckles. Hannah came jogging over, her palm full of all kinds of loot. Jewelry, gum, flasks… she, too, grimaced when she saw his face. 

“You look fantastic.” She teased, holding her hand of goodies out to the other two. Rose snatched up the gum and a necklace, while Thomas only took a pack of cigarettes. Hannah pocketed the rest. “I still don’t hear Mrs.O’Dowd…”

“Might be in the buildings.”

“The little one is just storage. Shoved a guy against the door and it opened. I wanted to wait for you two before I tackled the big building.” Hannah narrowed her eyes at Rose. “Let’s not go in guns blazing anymore, yeah?”

Rose shoved a handful of gum into her mouth and chewed obnoxiously in response to Hannah’s accusatory glare.

Thomas threw a sidelong glance at the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Nodding in agreement, the three immediately rearmed themselves. Hannah and Rose pointed their guns at the door, ready to fire in case several more men were hiding out in the main building, as Thomas quickly approached it. He jiggled the knob and was surprised to find it open--one would think they’d at least try locking it to slow down anyone coming for them. Holding his pistol up, ready for any more surprises, Thomas shoved the door open and burst inside. Hannah and Rose quickly followed.

* * *

* * *

Hannah was ready to put a bullet in anyone that was inside. Sweat poured down her face as she followed behind Thomas, eager to put down any more vile men like the worthless dogs they were. But inside the adobe, they were not met with further opposition--not in the form of gunfire, anyway. Hannah spun around, looking for any men who may be crouching in the corners, but all she saw was an empty living room, a tiny hallway, and a bedroom… where one man and a woman, presumably Mrs.O’Dowd, stood. But the man did not have a gun to her head. He had his arm out protectively covering her and had put himself between her and them. Her mouth parted, brow wrinkled in thought, as she watched the two. Realization came fast, far before Allison O’Dowd had a chance to say it herself.

She held her hand out to Rose and returned her schofields to their holsters, silently encouraging Rose to do the same with her carbine. 

“He sent you, didn’t he?” Allison snarled, clutching onto the man’s arm. She was trembling, and her voice cracked as she yelled at Thomas, Hannah, and Rose. “He sent you! Well… well, I’m not coming! I can’t go back to him!” 

Thomas didn’t say anything, but he still had his pistol raised. Hannah crept forward and gingerly put a hand on his arm. His face was a twisted mess of confusion and he, hesitantly, lowered his gun. Hannah turned her attention back to the two. 

“We’re in love.” The man said. “Just leave us be, okay? I’ll give you all we have. It ain’t much but it’s something.” 

“He said you were kidnapped.” Thomas said, slowly. He sounded unsure; lost. Rose spat her gum into her hand and stuck it on the wall, her eyes wide with awe at the turn of events.

“He’d say anything to make people come for me.” Allison hissed. 

“Goddamned bastard.” Hannah snorted, tossing her arms up. _ I knew I felt something off about that pig! _

The man gently shushed Allison, though he did so without breaking eye contact with Thomas. “Can you help us? We need to escape from here.”

“I’m not going back.” She started backing away from the entrance. “Cliff, you swore. You swore I wouldn’t have to go back!” 

“They’ll have to kill me to get to you. C’mon, folks… have a heart, please.” 

It all made sense now. Why none of the facts added up. Hannah looked up at Thomas’s face, only to find his expression blank, unreadable. His dark eyes were fixed upon the couple, but there was nothing in his visage that was telling of his emotions. Even when Hannah patted his shoulder he merely shrugged her off and used a thumb to wipe the last trickle of blood away from his nose. Looking back at Rose, the young woman was far more readable, with her blue eyes large and plush lips pulled into a determined smile. She nodded and Hannah smiled. Maybe the violent knife rat was capable of showing something other than distrust and violence. Or, perhaps she was just enjoying the drama. It didn’t matter; she was willing to help the unfortunate couple escape. At least… that’s what Hannah hoped that expression meant.

“Good thing we have three.” Hannah said, stepping forward. “He may have tricked us into coming all this way but… my colleagues and I? We ain’t about to--”

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The first thing Hannah saw, in the middle of her speech, was the horror in Cliff’s and Allison’s eyes. Allison ducked behind Cliff, her small hands wrapping around his middle as she buried her face into his back. Cliff’s hand went for his revolver. She saw the volcanic pistol being raised in her peripherals, heard the hammer being drawn back which was accompanied by Rose’s gasp, and she acted without thinking. Quickly, Hannah shoved Thomas’s arm as hard as she could. Dust and plaster crumbled from the ceiling as the bullet lodged inside it, sprinkling down harmlessly in front of the couple. Hannah pulled a gun on him before she fully realized her actions. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” She screamed. 

“My job!” Thomas snapped as he slapped her gun away from him. “We were hired to bring her ba--”

“Back to someone she clearly doesn’t want to be near!” Hannah shot her hand towards the couple aggressively. “How can you look at her, listen to her, and think taking her back is the right call?!”

“How can you say leaving her here with an outlaw is any better?!”

“Folks…” Cliff crept forward, his arm protectively wrapped around Allison. “Can this wait? We really oughta be gettin’ gone.”

Hannah looked at the couple, then at Rose, then back at Thomas. Her anger boiled over and she shoved him back, daring him to do something in retaliation. Though he bristled, he simply allowed her to push him against the wall, where he stood silently as Cliff and Allison hurried by. Rose followed them out into the yard, but Hannah stayed back to keep her intimidating eyes on Thomas. The sheer, unforgivable audacity of this man, to nearly condemn a man to death and that woman back to what was, undoubtedly, a life of abuse and rape. They glared at each other for several moments before Hannah tore her hand off his chest as though he were hot iron.

“This discussion ain’t over, Shepherd.” She warned. 

“Far from it.” He growled. 

Hannah turned on her heel and jogged out to the others. Rose had already gone and retrieved their horses. Without hesitation, Hannah yanked the reins from Rose’s hand, mounted Tano, and kicked her sides, spurring the horse forward. Cliff and Allison followed. Thomas was less eager to assist and he rode far behind, his gun drawn. The couple was talking, warning them of more people her husband might have sent, but truthfully, Hannah was not listening. The second she started seeing riders coming at them was when she opened fire. Her thighs gripped Tano tightly as she aimed her Evans at the hordes of men galloping towards them out of the desert. 

Some riders jerked back out of the saddle as Hannah landed her shots, their bodies falling limply to the ground and rolling to a lifeless stop as their steeds cantered onwards without their riders. Others were crushed by their horses when a bullet tore through their trusted equine’s skull, sending the attackers to the ground at bone-crunching speeds. A few survived when she shot the horses, but were wiped out either by Rose or left in the dust, their shots mere noise that challenged the crescendo of anger in Hannah’s ears. Over the beat of her heart, her panting, and the unbroken, thunderous beat of Tano’s hooves, Hannah could hear Cliff and Allison arguing._ You see all those men in town? We’ll never make it through! _

The couple veered off, heading for Armadillo, where goons stood in their way.

Bullets cascaded down on the caravan as Cliff tried to force their way by. Splinters from the wagon exploded and rained down into the dust as the hired vigilantes missed their shots. One of the spokes of the wagon was shot out and, due to it’s great speed, it broke off several others before it bounced free. That wheel groaned, threatening to break without support, but they had no choice but to push on. Hannah downed any men that stood upon the rooftops with precise accuracy, their heads mere targets for her to unleash her wrath. Rose trampled some of the gunners with Eclipse, the large black stallion whinnying madly as bones snapped and flesh tore beneath his hooves. The horses were urged to go faster as more men appeared on the other side of a steam train entering Armadillo. But these men, too, posed little threat, offered no resistance, and fell short of their purpose. All these men… all these stupid men… why did Terrence O’Dowd need her and Rose and Thomas if he had all these fucking idiots at his disposal? Was it just so that they would flush his poor wife out of her heavily guarded stronghold? The mere thought of it made Hannah sick with animosity. 

Leaving the plagued town of Armadillo behind them with nary a glance, they pressed onward. The terrorized, sickly residents, suffice it to say, would just have to add the slaughtered mercenaries to their pits already filled with the sick and dying. As the flat land melted into cliffs and crags, Hannah began missing her shots more and more. The men would duck just as she had her aim, or they would let her pass before popping back up and firing at the wagon. Rose did her best, but every shot nearly sent her tumbling out of her saddle. A stray bullet whizzed by and struck one of the shires pulling the wagon. The poor creature roared in agony and began pulling the wagon off road, ignoring Cliff’s commands as he desperately tried to steer the shire back onto the path. Hannah reined Tano in harshly and the war horse reared and turned to face the cliff’s hugging the narrow trail that snaked through Jorge’s Gap. Rose passed her by and spurred Eclipse harder to take Hannah’s place in front of the couple. 

One man, dumbly, stood out in the open. He fired off rapidly, trying to kill Hannah swiftly so that he could drag Allison back to Terrence. She heard three shots--only one was hers. The man she killed crumpled to the dust, while another one of O’Dowd’s men stumbled out from behind a boulder, holding his ear and hollering and squealing like a pig. He tumbled down into Jorge’s Gap and died on impact with the ground, his skull cracked open on one of the many large rocks that littered the gorge. Her dark eyes flickered up the ridge to see Echo’s head approaching over top of it. With her anger renewed, Hannah pulled Tano’s reins and headed after Rose and the couple before she got an eyeful of Thomas and did something she would regret. Pushing the horse to run, run faster than she’d ever run before, Hannah finally caught up to the couple at the old abandoned Mercer Station. 

Rose stood idly by, her penetrating, cobalt eyes leering at the couple as she patted Eclipse gently. The sleek, deep violet coat of the stallion was coated in a stark white, frothy sweat, and foam gathered at the corners of his mouth. He chomped at the bit and tossed his head around, Rose’s gentle pats doing nothing for the spooked horse. Cliff was crouched beside the wagon, assessing the damage, and though his brow was pinched in worry, he still offered a hesitant smile to Hannah as she approached. 

Tano, similarly to Eclipse, was panting and foaming at the mouth, her legs trembling from the ferocity of her gallop. Patting her in apology, and silently promising to pay for the best care once they got to some stables, Hannah slid off her and onto the ground. 

“I think that’s the last of ‘em.” Cliff said, climbing into the back of the wagon. He opened a locked box quickly and snatched the contents from inside. As he turned, his gentle smile fell, and Hannah didn’t need to turn around to know what he saw. She could hear him growing closer and her hands balled into fists as Cliff continued to talk. “How many more of them do we gotta kill?” 

Before Hannah could say anything, Allison piped up. “He’ll never leave us alone. He’ll keep saying you kidnapped me until some other fool comes and kills you. Or me… o-or both of us--” 

“No. We’ll run.” Cliff reached out to grab her fingers gently. Off to the side, Rose pretended to gag. “Somewhere hot… Mexico… Australia…” He kissed her fingers then hopped out of the wagon, holding out a small fold of bills to Hannah. “Here, take this. For… for being a decent human being. Tell him we drowned… or got hit by a train…” 

“Tell him to go hang himself!” Allison snarled. “Tell him whatever! Just… let us go.”

“Don’t gotta ask, ma’am. Get on outta here.” Hannah replied, pocketing the money without a second thought. 

She watched the couple ride off, but their safety and newfound freedom did little to calm the tempest that raged in her gut and constricted her heart. She felt so angry, so suffocatingly furious, that her breathing was uneven and her teeth were clenched tight. The heat didn’t help. Eclipse’s grunting and snorting was giving her a headache. Her heart hammered away in her chest, a steady, aggressive drumming that urged her to do something now, **now** . Dusty fingers twitch beside her pocket before she suddenly shoves her hand in, pulls out the money, and spins around to throw it at Thomas. Her wild, fiery hair spun with the momentum of the movement. Stray strands stuck to her face and her lips as she glared at him. The bills fluttered to the ground, unclaimed. Perhaps if she was of right mind, she would commend him for not stooping low enough to dive for the dollars, but she wasn’t. She was enraged. Her cheeks challenged the redness of her hair as she dared, _ dared _, Thomas to do something. 

When he did nothing, not even utter a word, it only infuriated her more. “What was that?!” She screamed. Rose tilted her head curiously. “What the** _ fuck_ ** was that!?”

Thomas didn’t answer right away and it only stoked the flames of her fury higher. “She was so scared when we came barging through those doors! She was genuinely horrified by the thought of being forced back with that sick, disgusting old man! And you were just… just! Going to take her back!? Kicking and screaming!?” 

“It’s our job--” He started, and Hannah flipped him off.

“Bullshit! Don’t even try it!” 

“It is!” He snapped. “Freeman had nothing for us until that dumb bastard came in!”

“So, what, we just do what we’re asked?! With no thought to our own morals!? I didn’t see you eager to let Bob Crawfish get hit by a train!” 

“Arnsdale handed us the money already.”

“Oh, so if he asked first and stood there, you would’ve done it?!”

“You think you saved those fools?” Thomas gestured down the road. “How much did they give you!?”

“It’s right there.” Hannah slowly moved her hand over the dollars that lay in the dust. “Count it.”

“Three dollars is all they had?”

“_ So _sorry I didn’t let you take her in for the full thirty.” Hannah said, mockingly. She grinned cruelly at how it seemed to rile Thomas up. 

“You some type’a savior to people too stupid to deal with their own problems?” Thomas snapped. “What’d you accomplish here today, Miss Denson?”

“Hell of a lot more than you did, Shepherd.” 

“Is that how you see it? Because I see two young, dumb, broke fools thinkin’ they can go moseying out into the desert with a single barrel of water and half a crate of provisions, being hounded by a scorned, very rich man, on top of being easy targets for the likes of gangs and whatever else is out here!”

“Dying in the desert, together, is better than her being alive and miserable and wishing she was dead with a man like Terrence O’Dowd!” 

“Not if what gets her is a Del Lobo!” 

“You keep mentioning the Del Lobo’s, yet I haven’t seen a single one of them since we arrived! I’m starting to think you just imagined them and the terror they’re capable of!” He tensed at that. A brief look of hurt flickered over his features._ Good. _She hoped whatever garnered that reaction was cutting him deep. “Where are they then, Thomas, huh? If this area is their territory? Why ain’t they crawling all over?”

“Did you forget the fucking ambush!?” 

“One ambush! I’m quaking!” 

“You’re unbelievable!” 

“_ I’m _ unbelievable?” Hannah pointed a finger at herself. “You were the one that was ready to hand her back!” 

“Are you gonna rescue every cat stuck in a tree and kiss the skinned knees of every child too?!”

“As opposed to leaving said cat there or rubbing slime muck into the wound?!”

“You issued them both a death sentence!”

“Who said, Lord God Almighty himself, or some Heartlands hick?! Does your loyalty lie with the highest bidder?!” 

They glared at each other, both tensed and angry. Hannah swallowed down the urge to throw a punch at him--but just barely. In terms of brute strength, he had her beat, and though before today she deemed him too kind to lay a hand on her, that was all tossed out the door. He’d sock her in the jaw if it gave him a decent amount of money. The nerve, the gall, of this man to act like he had any right to argue against her decision. Allison was twenty, no, thirty years younger than that disgusting old wretch. She couldn’t be older than either Hannah or Rose--she simply couldn’t be. Hannah tensed as Thomas turned and climbed back into the saddle, his freckled, ruddy cheeks red with anger he was undeniably biting back. Part of her wanted him to lash out; it’d give her an excuse to crack her schofield across his temple. 

“Don’t forget your payment.” Hannah hissed as she kicked dirt over one of the dollars. Thomas sneered and rolled his eyes. He pulled Echo’s reins and turned the American Paint away from her. 

“I think it’s best you and I don’t speak for a while.” 

“Fine by me!” 

Urging Echo forward, Hannah watched them trot away for three beats of her frantic heart before she turned to Rose, who still stood off to the side. Her eyes glimmered with amusement despite the tight frown her lips were set in. Hannah waited until Thomas was far out of ear shot before she reached down to scoop up the money out of the dirt. Shaking away the dust and pebbles, she took Tano’s reins and led her over to Rose. 

“Whaddya say you and I go drinking?”

* * *

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Terrence O’Dowd was gone from Tumbleweed by the time Rose and Hannah arrived. After stabling Eclipse and Tano, they immediately headed for the saloon, where they stayed well into the night. Cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air, drifting listlessly around, the stench fusing with the intense body odor from the many sweaty, unwashed men and women. The whiskey was laughably weak, but Hannah purchased it anyway. She drank deeply, right down to the last drop, before ordering another, and another, and another. She chugged until the biting edge of her anger dulled to nothing. Rose was jittery at first. Hannah could see the discomfort on her face; she even kicked the seat out from under a man who tried to sit with them. He was too drunk to realize Rose had done it maliciously and just assumed he’d missed the seat. He vomited and then passed out, which was followed by uproarious laughter. But after a few drinks herself, the violent little knife rat seemed to loosen up--until a bar fight broke out between the piano player and a disgruntled husband. Hannah joined in by smashing her bottle over the head of the husband who had tarnished the good mood and it went haywire from there. 

Punches began being thrown, glasses and bottles shattered, men thrown over tables and out windows. The bartender pleaded for the fighting to cease and for everyone to behave, but it was a pointless plea to drunken stooges. Amused laughter died on Hannah’s lips when Rose stopped the brawl by driving her knife into the shoulder of a man who bumped into her. She yanked her knife out so hard an arch of blood flew from the knife and splattered on the ceiling. People began screaming and hurrying to get out and Hannah grabbed Rose’s hand--stumbled--then dragged her out the back door. They had to wait for it all to calm down before they could go for Eclipse and Tano, so they waited in a burned down building for Freeman to finish his interrogations and searches. It wasn’t until dawn’s first light that they were able to reclaim their trusty steeds, and they bolted off into the desert, back towards camp. They galloped, side by side, at full speed, until Hannah deemed they were far enough away and reined Tano in. Rose hesitantly did the same, and the two began the slow trek back to their temporary home.

* * *

* * *

All she wanted was Kimber. 

Drinking with Hannah had turned into a disaster--but really, could any fun be had after the day she had endured with those two? Rescuing the poor damsel in distress, shooting men and leaving them to rot across the desert, the argument, the drinking… she could care less that the two had gotten into a little quarrel. Truthfully, Rose’s shoulder was what preoccupied her mind. The kick back from her rifle had bruised her and, though she landed some lucky shots, she had done little to actually help the couple escape once everyone got on horseback. Part of her hated Hannah for saving the woman. Thirty dollars was a lot. But part of her also hated Thomas and his cruel decision snuffed the small flicker of trust she had begun to have for him. She had little sympathy for women like Allison, too weak and stupid to just kill her husband and always involving everyone around her in her deadly drama, but even Rose saw the injustice in returning her to someone as sick as Terrence O’Dowd. 

Maybe Thomas was right and those two would be claimed by the elements. Maybe they would get picked up by Del Lobo’s and tortured until death… but so what? That’s life. They did their part and it was no concern of hers if the couple ended up being vulture grub.

Still, despite everything going against her, Rose was alive, and all she wanted was to go back to camp and hug Kimber. She rode behind Hannah, cursing the heat and their lack of water, when the redhead suddenly veered off the road. Rose watched as Hannah scrambled off Tano and bent over and vomited, the combination of a belly full of alcohol and the blistering heat proving to be too much for her. For the past thirty minutes Rose had been spitting the rising bile out as they rode; she assumed Hannah must have been swallowing it down till her body couldn’t take it anymore. 

_ Shoulda ate something too, moron _. Rose thought as she moved her feet out of the Eclipse’s stirrups and leaned back on her hands, her legs swinging nonchalantly. During the brawl, before that man had threatened her life with his imposing form and touchy hands, Rose had stolen potatoes from behind the counter. One, she’d already scarfed down. The other was half-eaten and abandoned thanks to that good for nothing that tried to hurt her. She missed that potato. Hopefully Thomas or Cripps had prepared another stew and she could have a celebratory sit down with Kimber and just pig out! 

Hannah straightened up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then wiped her hand on her pants as she walked back over to Tano. Her lipstick had been smudged off onto her hand and across her cheek. Unbuckling the flaps of her saddlebag, Rose watched her fish out a small satchel and pull out a rag. She then wetted the cloth with a dab of water from her canteen and started wiping her lipstick off with the help of a small mirror. Satisfied with the clean up, Hannah returned the rag and the mirror, pausing in her rummaging, thinking. Irritated with how long she was taking, and excited at the thought of seeing her trusty pooch, Rose kicked Eclipse’s sides and tried to continue on without Hannah. Instead of letting her by, however, Hannah grabbed Eclipse’s reins, and Rose shot her a vicious warning glare. 

“Hold up,” She slurred. Her speech sounded considerably better compared to the night, but the tinge of drunkenness was still there. “Come down here.”

_ No, you smell like a drunkard _ . Rose thought, gripping her reins tighter. She slapped Hannah’s hand away from the reins and Eclipse, startled by the sound, nearly bolted. _ You also scared Eclipse! _

“Hey! Don’t be an asshole! I just want to give you something.”

_ Payment for wasting my time? _

Hesitantly, Rose slid out of the saddle and stood beside Hannah with her arms crossed. Hannah held a closed hand out to her and her fingers unfurled to reveal a tube of lipstick. Rose sneered at the gift, an expression that went unnoticed by Hannah. 

“Annie bought this for me ages ago.” Popping the cap off, Rose was startled to see a deep shade of purple instead of Hannah’s striking red. “It’s really not my color. But I think you might look nice in it… what with your dark hair and all. Does Annie ever do your make up?”

Rose nodded, feeling her cheeks flush. She would never let Annie apply anything other than foundation and blush, not after the incident where Annie made her lips so glossy that they felt oily for weeks. Most of Annie’s makeup came from Evelin Wren’s shoppe, a small boutique across the street from one of Rose’s favorite cafes; to rob from, of course. They had the best tiny cakes. 

“Do you want it?” Hannah asked. Rose, again, nodded and gingerly took the tube from her. She rolled it between her fingers, her thumb gently grazing over the E.W initials engraved into the dirtied bronze of the baton. A fond smile broke over the impassive, statuesque mask for the briefest of moments, before the tight frown returned to Rose’s lips. She looked up at Hannah, who had turned away and was climbing back into her saddle. Thinning her lips, suddenly wracked with guilt, Rose opened her saddlebag and tossed in the lipstick before clamoring onto Eclipse. 

Without moving her eyes off Hannah's back, Rose reached into her other saddlebag and rummaged around in it as she watched Hannah pull her thick red tresses into a lopsided bun. Tendrils of flaming waves, free from the lazy bun, danced hypnotically in the slight breeze the unkind desert bestowed upon them this morning. With a flick of her wrist, Rose tossed Hannah’s horse brush into the dirt under Tano, then whistled for her attention. She turned, and Rose pointed, and Hannah’s face lit up with an excited smile.

* * *

* * *

Kimber’s haunting bark was the first thing Hannah heard as they neared their camp spot. The cur bolted past Hannah without a passing glance, his ears pinned back excitedly as he bounded towards Rose, his tongue and ears flapping in the wind. He jumped towards her, whining now, and Eclipse pinned his ears back, unhappy with having the dog making so much noise and bouncing around his hooves. Rose slid off and immediately scooped Kimber into her arms, the dog barely containing his excitement. 

Cripps stood beside the butcher table, chopping up some thick, healthy looking meat, and Hannah struted over to him, flashing the old man a winning smile as she placed her hands on her hips. 

“We helped all those idiot sheriffs, Mr. Cripps. What’s next?” 

“Well,” He started, pushing the chunks of red meat into the stew pot. Hannah could already see the pot was full of broth and vegetables. “First things first, if you leave me with that mangy mutt again, he’s going in the pot. Second, I’m going to cook up some grub and then y'all can rest up before we head back out. Already Mr. Horley is waiting in Blackwater--no doubt to give you more hooey to do.” 

“Any word on getting our names cleared?” 

Cripps’ smile fell and he shook his head. 

“Oh…”

Glancing away, embarrassed for sounding so excited and hopeful, Hannah scanned the camp. She felt the sharp sting of anger pang her chest cavity as she half-expected to see Thomas leaning against a wagon, smoking. The anger dulled, overtaken by confusion, as she realized that neither Thomas, nor Echo, nor his bedroll was present. Her gaze drifted over the terrain, searching for any sign of them, but all she saw was coyotes and the occasional hawk. A Gila Monster skirted across the road further down, and a lone man on a tiny pony caught her eye, momentarily, when she saw him heading in the direction of the San Luis River. But Echo’s recognizable coat and Thomas’s ever present blue plaid was nowhere to be seen. 

“Cripps?”

“Yessum?”

“Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s gone.”


End file.
